


Bandits and Royalty

by royalwisteria



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Magic, F/M, Gen, M/M, Rapunzel AU, Slow Build, characters to be added as they appear, gender deviant bilba, lots and lots of hair
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 08:21:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 70,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/royalwisteria/pseuds/royalwisteria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilba knows what it is to be kept a prisoner, though at the time she hadn't been aware of it. Her Mother had kept her in a Tower with books and her long hair as her sole company. It is after Thorin and his nephews find her that she gathers the courage to leave, to see mountains, feel grass between her toes, and find out why Mother had never let her cut her hair nor discover and practice the magic she has. She wants to meet people, see the variety of personalities that populate the world, and learn what it was that Mother was selfishly keeping her from.</p><p>But, most of all, she wants to see Thorin again, learn his face from up close, and know the precise shade of his hair and tangle it between her fingers. Even though he's royalty, after unofficial adoption by the Ur brothers, dancing lessons and a position in Erebor he occupies her thoughts more than anything.</p><p>a Rapunzel AU (with plenty of twists, trust me)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how many know the original story, but here's a brief rundown in case you don't:
> 
> Rapunzel's mom has these crazy cravings for this herb called rapunzel and her dad has to make a deal with the lady who owns the garden (and therefore the rapunzel) to provide it for his wife. The lady takes the baby and raises the girl, named Rapunzel, in a tower. Then a prince comes by and yeah, so the prince climbs her hair, sexy times happen later (though Rapunzel's consent is dubious to me considering the era this story was created) and when her step-mother discovers Rapunzel's pregnancy, she kicks her out. Then she wanders, the prince gets blinded and wanders, finds Rapunzel and their twin kids, his blindness is cured and happily ever after.
> 
> This story is going to differ from that, much like the movie Tangled did. Bilba's hair is not climbable and the development of her relationship with the prince (Thorin) will vary greatly (ie no sex and a different sort of separation). This is more of a story with guidelines set by the original because Bilba's going to become pretty awesome-cool later on c:

Bilba has always thought her hair to be unnecessarily long and the only thing it’s ever been good for is for keeping her warm during winter. The Tower does, after all, have a terrible heating system (read: no heating system) and Mother has never been good at passive spells that would heat Bil’s bed or the stones underneath her feet. Her spells were much better along the point-and-destroy, or point-and-fire, which Bil has long since resigned herself to. It’s not very helpful, like, _ever_ , but if Bil can last almost twenty years with Mother like that, it’s no big deal. Besides, Mother protects her and brings her food using that magic, although Bil wouldn’t mind having more vegetables. Mother says that she just doesn’t care for dirt and getting dirty, but Bil only knows that dirt is soil because of books. She’s never touched the ground before and she’s only gotten dirty from sweating because of heat.

So, tucked away in her Tower, Bil spends her time reading or braiding endless braids in her long, thick hair that will eventually come undone. She’d try braiding flowers in, but that would require not being in the Tower and she would rather not try and climb down the Tower. She’s thought about it extensively, although she loves Mother and all, it’s just frightfully _boring_ up here all the time. Sure, so she has endless, beautiful vistas all the way around, this is probably some prime real estate, but there’s nothing that’s ever _new_. Bil knows the trees, she knows the small river she can see just a little ways into the forest, and she’s crossed out every bird which can possibly live in this area from her bird-spotting book.

Bil knows that there is nothing for her here. Her hair trails on the floor after her, never touched since her birth, and Mother goes out and keeps her safe. She says that bandits roam the land, and bears and huge moose that would eat her in one gulp, but when Bil had suggested that maybe they should move, her Mother had screamed and yelled at her and not returned for almost an entire week. Bil had never brought it up again from fear and she had wondered if Mother is keeping her here simply because she can. She used to believe everything her Mother told her, but why would she yell at such a reasonable suggestion? If she loves Bil, why would she leave Bil alone for so long and continuously? If there are bandits and other nefarious sorts of people, they should change neighborhoods. Also, what exactly do bandits _do_? Bil’s seen no such people and is suspicious that bandits don’t even exist; she’s not seen much of them in her books.

It’s been three years since she brought it up, and her hair has grown approximately three feet and nine inches. Sometimes she really wants to cut it off, but fears that Mother would yell and leave her for an extended period of time again because leaving her hair alone is one of the rules Bil is to never, ever break.

It’s just— her hair is just so long and so hot during the summer. It’s entirely too thick, and the little curls that come out everywhere are ticklish. The only good part really is that during the winter when it keeps her warm. There are tangles all over the place, Bil bets, but since her hair is so long she doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to get them out. Mother had brought her endless hair brushes, all of which are currently lined on a dresser, but none of them ever seemed to do the trick. The bristles would come out in her hair, the handle would snap in two, or it was too weak to be of any use.

So Bil leave her hair alone and she doesn’t mention leaving to Mother and spends her time whenever possible on her balcony, watching sunrises and sunsets, listening to the distant sounds of high-pitched squirrels or other animals and reads. The only books she has are books that Mother brought for her, and they’re a limited resource. There are only so many books Bil can fit in the bookcase in her Tower, though she has started piling books up next to it, some of them ten high, and sometimes Bil wonders just how many books there are in the world. She reads the history books Mother brings, literature, other fiction political science, but not once is there a book about magic.

Above all else, Bil wants a magic book. Literature is great and all, history as well, but she’s had so little contact with people and she’s seen Mother float herself up, set a fire blazing with a snap and point of two fingers in a fireplace with no wood. She’s seen her do all sorts of magic that Bil wants to try as well; sometimes her fingertips ache to try the point and snap but she doesn’t understand how. Does she direct her thoughts? Is magic latent in everyone, or only a select few?

Bil remembers, when a little girl, her pudgy legs dangling over the edge of the balcony, watching Mother fly herself up and asking if Bil can do it to. Mother had been angry, her hair swishing around her with her _no_ as she marched Bil inside, locked all the doors and closed all the shutters. Bil doesn’t remember how long Mother was gone, but she remembers the pitch darkness of inside the Tower. She remembers learning where everything was and she remembers accidentally stepping on a vase she hadn’t remembered earlier and knocked down. There are still faint scars on the sole of her foot.

When Mother comes back, though, she’s sunshine and smiles, a wreath of good will and Bil brightens because she’s been so lonely, she’s been aching so long for someone to come back and love her. She needs Mother, needs her so badly and back then her foot had hurt so much and she had stopped moving for fear of hurting even more. Mother had clucked worriedly over her foot and swept Bil up into her arms and laid her gently on her bed and used some sort of magic to make the pain go away.

However long that was, Bil remembers it clearly and she knows that she’s not to ask about magic. All the rules Bil knows were never verbally set in place; they are bits and pieces Bil has gathered over the twenty years of her life.

 

One day she hears something that is not the familiar sounds of birds, other animals, wind blowing in the trees. There are crashing noises, muted shouts that she can vaguely hear, remaining indistinct, and she watches as birds scatter from their trees in flocks, flying in circles before landing as the disturbance passes. Someone is coming, Bil realizes, and that someone is not her Mother. Her hands close her book unconsciously, not even sticking a finger to keep her spot and she brings it inside and sets it upon the table. Her feet keep her there for some long moments, staring blankly out the other door to the other view of forest she has. That side is peaceful and quiet, though she can hear the noise behind her clearly. The shouts are coming closer; Bil wonders if they’re aiming for the Tower or if the Tower just happens to be in their path.

When she exits onto the balcony, three people are exiting the forest and her eyes widen quickly as she sees men— _men—_  and hastily steps back inside and presses against the wall. She’s never seen men before, only heard descriptions of height, rage and how she should be scared of them above all else.

She is scared, heart beating quickly in her chest, but they have stopped yelling. Bil peeks around the corner and notices that they’re staring at the Tower. She swiftly retracts her head and hopes they didn’t see her or the swish of her hair. When the shouting doesn’t continue for a moment more, she slides to the ground and crawls out onto the balcony, hair dragging along with her. Bil might be scared, but her fear does not trump her curiosity and this is likely to be Bil’s only chance to learn about other people.

Peering over the edge, they look very small. She thought that they’d be taller, taller than Mother at least, but they look hardly that. Maybe Mother is just extraordinarily tall, although she’s not that much taller than Bil herself, only a few inches. As she’s watching, unable to help watching them and knowing that she should be shuttering herself into the Tower, the argument starts up again.

“Remind me again how you lost the horses,” the tallest one of them says. He has dark hair and it’s pulled into a ponytail, a long line down his back. It’s not nearly as long as Bil’s though, but it’s longer than Mother’s. His voice is also surprisingly deep; it sounds nothing like Mother’s voice, nor the sound of her own voice and nothing like the animals in the forest. Is this what men sound like?

“There was an ogre coming at me, so I ran off! I didn’t want to _die_.” This one is also dark-haired with a ponytail, though much shorter, and Bil wonders if the three of them are related, if they make up a family. If this is what families are like, what men are like, Bil’s not sure she wants either.

“Without the horses, it’s taken us twice the time to even reach this forsaken forest.” Bil frowns. The forest isn’t forsaken, though Bil wonders if the forest is so very different when under the canopy.

But who are these men? Are they bandits? They are all wearing swords, and the shorter ponytailed man has a bow held loosely in his hand. Weapons, then, and Bil is half-curious as to how to use them and half-dreading how they could be used on her.

The last one, blonde with his hair in a braid, is still staring at the Tower and Bil scuttles backwards a little when his gaze drifts upwards. “Hello?”

“Who are you talking to? No one lives here.” It’s the long ponytail man, body turning to face the blonde. Bil inches forward again and she knows that this is probably a Very Bad Idea. “You were supposed to stay back with Kili as well. What were you _thinking_? We’re miles from home—”

Bil creeps even closer to the edge of the balcony and she can see a wide smile cross the blonde’s face. “Hey, look, someone _is_ there! Hello, how are you?”

She ducks back, but the back and forth motion had let her hair too close to the edge of the balcony and it starts tumbling over the edge, pulling harshly at her scalp. It hurts, a lot, and Bil winces as she starts pulling it up with her hands and accidentally lets slip a sharp cry when she feels a tug. “Stop that, it’s my hair and that hurts!” The tugging continues, but lighter and Bil crossly stares down at them. “Could you please release my hair? Letting it dangle so is painful as well.”

The blonde is grinning, and the short ponytailed man is grinning as well, the hands buried in her hair evidence that he is the culprit. “Your hair is quite miraculous, fair lady.”

“You can hardly see my face so I’d like you to refrain from calling me fair until we can meet at a much closer distance— which, fortunately enough, is not going to happen. Now let go of my hair!”

“Kili,” the long ponytailed man says, a hand on his shoulder. “How would you like me to pull your hair and refuse to let go?”

Kili releases her hair and Bil quickly starts pulling it up until it spools next to her. “Thank you, sir, for your help.”

The man looks up at her, his expression solemn. “I must apologize for my nephew’s rudeness.”

She smiles. If they’re bandits, they’re awfully nice bandits. Not at all likely to wreck a violent death upon her. “I accept your apology, but I believe the apology would mean more coming from the offender.”

The man scuffs Kili again, pushing him forward and Bil stands to lean over the rail, checking to make sure her hair doesn’t tumble off again, in order to see Kili bow. “I’m sorry.” The words are muffled and he quickly scampers away from his uncle once said. “But my fair lady, as I will insist upon calling you as your hair is quite lovely, why are you in this tower?”

Bil shrugs. “Because I live here.”

“How did you come to live there?” Fili asks, stepping back to join Kili. Bil thinks it might be because they don’t need to crane their necks back so much.

“I was born here,” she replies, amused. “And have had no chance, nor the will, to leave.”

Which is true, for the most part. She’d rather not die.

The two look at each other and Bil can’t quite read their expressions because they are both too far away and faces pointed too far away the other way. Their uncle soon steps backwards so that the three of them are in a row and he stands firm, arms crossed over his chest. Bil smiles, resting her elbows on the railing and propping her head up with fists as she stares down at them.

“Might I ask a question now?”

“We are at your service, my fair lady,”

“Do you happen to be bandits?”

Fili and Kili— whom Bil has decided are siblings— share a look with each other before looking at their uncle. She can see him narrow his eyes and clench his teeth. “We are not bandits. We have simply lost our horses by an earlier misjudgment and we’re trying to make our way back home.”

“How do I know you’re not bandits?” Bil can’t help asking, and though there is clear amusement in her tone, she honestly doesn’t know if they are or not. “I’ve been oft warned of them.”

“Even if we were bandits, lady,” Fili says, tone equally playful. “I must say that this tower of yours looks entirely impregnable. No man would be able to climb it and no man could reach your balcony.”

She grins at him. “That is true, isn’t it.” Maybe this is why they do not move; there are few places safer than the Tower and if Mother loves her, as she’s said endless times when returning after a long absence, then all Mother wants is to keep her safe. “I believe I am as safe as a king up here.”

The two brothers share quick looks and the man smiles widely at her. “I don’t think kings are as safe as you believe them to be.”

“Perhaps so, but his people must hold their king dear and wish little harm upon him and so they protect him.”

“You are quite idealistic, lady.”

She huffs and rolls her eyes. “Please stop calling me lady, it’s making me uncomfortable.”

“What shall we call you then, fair lady?”

Bil thinks for a moment and ponders giving them her real name. There might not be any harm in it, but Bil is scared of Mother finding out she had talked to strange men. It would amuse her a little, as well.  “My name is Blueberry, if you please.” Kili starts chuckling and Fili pushes his shoulder, although he’s smiling as well. “And what are yours?” She knows the two names of the two boys, although they had not been properly introduced and she’s not sure about their uncle.

“Fili, at your service.”

“My name is Kili, fair lady, if you might grace my name with your voice.”

Wow, okay, that is overdone even with Kili’s insistence on ‘fair lady’. Bil squints at him and wonders exactly what is wrong with him. He looks sane, but Bil’s being honest when she says that she doesn’t know how to tell the difference between sane and insane people.

“And my name is Thorin.” He sweeps a bow and straightens. “And, Miss Blueberry, would you happen to know the way to Dale?”

“Dale?” She repeats softly, standing straight and looking around. “I couldn’t say for sure, but you’re currently in the southern reaches of Greenwood Forest. Might you tell me which way Dale is from here?”

She hears all three of them mutter and is curious of their tone, but as much as she strains her ears, she cannot hear their words.

“Dale would be to to the north, Blueberry,” Fili calls up to her. “Would you please point us in that direction?”

She nods, bemused and points to her right. “North is in that direction.”

Thorin bows again, hands in the same position. “Thank you yet again, Miss Blueberry. You have most likely saved our lives.”

A smile quirks her lips. “Nonsense. I’m sure you would have been able to find Dale without me. I have simply decreased your travel time. I hope you travel safely.”

“It was a pleasure meeting you Miss Blueberry, and farewell.” Thorin nods briefly and starts striding in the direction she had pointed. Fili and Kili are quick to move after him, but pause at the edge of the forest.

Fili is next. “Farewell, Miss Blueberry.”

And then Kili. “Until we meet again, my fair lady.”

Then they follow their uncle and Bil is alone. The loneliness when Mother is gone is always acute, but this loneliness is different, as though awakening something previously dormant. She had never met other people before, but Bil heavily doubts that they’ll ever meet each other again. It doesn’t seem possible. They were lost and that’s how they found her Tower. She can’t see signs of any other people for all the distant view her vistas provide her.

There’s little choice of them ever meeting again, but Bil dearly wishes she will.


	2. Chapter 2

Bil should know better than to wish for any of the three men to find her again, but she wishes for it anyways. They were nice enough, and Bil has all sorts of questions to ask them. She wants to ask about landscapes other than forestry, if plains without signs of trees actually exist, and mountains, or deserts— there’s just so much she doesn’t know and it kills her sometimes. She knows everything in her own little world, but she’s aware that there is so much more out there, but it’s not waiting for her to catch up as it continues on.  

She’s sitting on her balcony a week later, back against the sun-warmed stone of the outside wall with a book, legs stretched in front of her and hair twining around her and leading back inside, when someone calls out and her first reaction is to run inside, away from whoever it is. The voice is deep, almost threatening, and it takes her a moment to realize that it’s one of the men from yesterday.  

“Miss Blueberry!”  

Standing slowly, she walks to the edge and sweeps her gaze around. Not here; maybe on the other side? Bil thinks that maybe she should duck inside, because this is not going to end well for her. There’s no way, she’s thought about it enough, for her to be happy without other people in her life once she meets them. If any of the three men came by again, if they ever talked again, Bil would start longing for more companionship. She had been fine, for the most part, with just Mother as her only companion. She had never known anything else, but the moment she’s offered a little more she’ll become dissatisfied.  

“Miss Blueberry, are you there?”  

“Who is it?” She calls back, and then she catches sight of Thorin walking around the edge of the forest a little warily and is leading a horse. Bil smiles when she spots the horse— so they got back safely. That’s a relief.  

“There you are!” Thorin says, a smile on his face as well and she feels her smile stumble for some reason. Why is he here? Why is he looking for her? He shouldn’t be here. He’s lucky that Mother had come by yesterday and that he’s missing her; Bil knows that both she and Thorin would be punished for this and Mother can be ruthless.  

“Why are you here?”  

His smile falters and drops. “I came to thank you again and to repeat something of my nephew’s questions.”  

She leans against the railing, the edge pressing just below her ribs. “What questions would those be?”  

“You were born in this tower?”  

Bil’s grip tightens on the railing. “As far as I am aware of, sir, yes.”  

“Then you have lived in this tower all your life.”  

The edges of the iron bite into her hand uncomfortably and she smiles humorlessly at Thorin. “Yes, I have. But do not mistake me to be entirely unhappy; everything I have need of is at my disposal.”  

“Is that so?” Thorin frowns and his head bobs up and down; he’s most likely surveying the building. “Might there be a way for me to talk to you at a more reasonable distance?”  

She giggles. “Sir, if there was a way up, there would be a way down and I am not allowed to leave the Tower.”  

His face blankens and Bil wonders if she said something wrong. “How old are you, Miss Blueberry?”  

She bites her lips. His tone sound off and she’s a little scared of the blankness of his expression. It’s as though he’s utterly shut off and away from her. “I am nearly in my twentieth year.”  

“And you have spent your life in this tower for as long as you can recall.”  

“I would thank you not to make it seem like I have lived a terrible life,” Bil is unable to snap at him, leaning back, the pain that had started to creep around the edge pressed into her body starting to lessen already. “I am happy, sir, so you have no need to interrupt my life.”  

“Miss Blueberry, have you ever seen a mountain before?”  

She stares at him. Now he looks more earnest, as though he wants her to believe something. “I have not.”  

“Have you ever seen a market, people thronging around vendors hawking their wares, families strolling along, children perched on parents shoulders? Have you ever gone swimming, in water so cold that your teeth chatter but it’s too big a thrill to not swim? Magic shows, acrobats with swirling clothes, colorful fireworks in the sky?”  

Mutely, Bil shakes her head. She’s not even sure she knows what fireworks are.  

“Miss Blueberry, have you ever had any friends?”  

This she will not take. “Thorin, I would thank you to stop right there.”  

“Miss Blueberry, I am here to see if there is some way I can rescue you.”  

“That is enough,” she cries out, jerking back, hands leaving the rail. “I am required to live here and there is no way for me to leave even if I wanted to. I am not ready for the world, sir, so stop making me seem pitiable.”  

Thorin does not respond for a few moments. The moments stretch before them, long, silent, heavy. “I am sorry, then, Miss Blueberry, for I find you very pitiable.”  

She stares at him and he holds her gaze. The distance between them is great, and Bil thinks she can see the calmness in his expression, the condemnation of her life in his eyes. She opens her mouth, to say something, anything, but closes it again and swallows. She has no response for pity.  

“I must ask you to leave.”  

He bows shortly, the nod of his head crisp. “My nephews would like to visit you again, miss. The two of them are your age, a little younger in fact, and I believe that friendship between the three of you would be beneficial. Are they allowed to visit?”  

Her throat feels too thick to get any words out, but she manages somehow. “How old are they?”  

“Fili is just recently eighteen and Kili is yet sixteen.”  

Kili, then, is four years her junior and Fili two. “Yes, they may.”  

“I wish you a good day, Miss Blueberry. I hope that my absence will do you a favor.”  

He turns and leaves, Bil staring after him and before she knows it there are tears running down her face. She’s not cried like this before, and she’s not quite sure why she’s crying either. Is it anger? Is she sad that she has never experienced any of those things that Thorin mentioned? Maybe, Bil thinks as she curls in a ball on her bed, hair fanning around her, it’s both of them. She’s angry that she’s so pitiable to him and terribly, terribly sad that her life seems empty in comparison to those who can experience all those things he said, and surely there are more things. Surely there’s more that she doesn’t know about existing. The thought is wretched.   
  
  


Fast asleep and curled up is how Mother finds her.  

“Bilba, darling, wake up!”  

Her eyes flutter open and slowly her eyes focus on Mother and then bolt upright, rubbing her face. “I was asleep?”  

Mother looks in part amused and annoyed. “Yes. You were. It’s almost evening and I thought I would find you preparing a dinner.”  

“It’s evening?” Bil echoes, brushing hair over her shoulder as best she can and follows Mother to the other side of the Tower. It’s where Bil’s food is stashed: pickled items, some fruits and vegetables, cured meat that lasts. There’s more there than before, a canvas bag full of items, and Bil peers into it.  

“Candied dates?” She asks in wonder, turning to stare at Mother. “Thank you,” she cries, throwing arms around her.  

“Anything for my darling Bilba,” Mother says, a hand making one circle on Bil’s back before disengaging. “Now, let us eat. I’ve used quite a bit of magic today and am particularly hungry.”  

Bil nods eagerly and quickly picks up some fruit, strawberries that are almost overripe, some carrots and takes a loaf of bread that Mother had brought by recently. It is, thankfully, still fresh and not too hard.  

Mother is already sitting at the table when Bil sets the food down and scrutinizes her face. “Were you crying earlier?”  

Bil tries not to freeze, let any movement give her away, but she cannot. Her hands judder and accidentally drop the bowl of strawberries the last few inches to the table. Too late to try and lie now, she supposes. “Yes, I was.”  

“Are you sad, sweetheart?”  

She quickly shakes her head ‘no’ as she pulls a chair out for herself. “I am not sad.”  

“Then what is the matter?” Bil looks up at Mother and drinks her face anew. Her skin is creamy pale, eyes large and a clear blue, her dark hair follows the edge of her jaw and ends at her shoulders. She is so beautiful, Bil always thinks, and then wants to know what beauty is good for and what she herself looks like.  

“Sometimes,” she tries, cautiously. “I am lonely.”  

“Am I not enough for you?” The tone is sharper; Bil knows she’s treading on thin ice.  

“It’s not that at all, Mother,” Bil rushes to say, taking some of the strawberries and a carrot, starting to munch. “But sometimes you are gone for long periods of time and I forget how to speak.”  

Mother eyes her; Bil ducks her head as she bites into a strawberry. “You are smarter than I realize sometimes, dear one.”  

Bil smiles at the praise, lifting her head to stare at Mother. But her face does not seem happy, instead her expression is withdrawn, almost calculating. “You have provided me with a great deal of books.”  

“So I have,” Mother says softly, eyes drifting to stare at the bookcase and piles of books. “Do you require another bookcase?”  

“I am fine without another one.”  

“The books, however, are not fine on the floor. I will get one for you.”  

“Thank you, Mother.”  

Thorin, Fili and Kili are on the tip of her tongue, but her Mother smiles brightly at her as she turns back to Bil. “Shall we eat then? Let me cut the loaf for you.” Bil wordlessly hands the bread to Mother who snaps and drags her finger along the loaf, slices appearing.  

“Thank you.” How did Mother not cut her hand with the cutting edge? Is there a way to control how far an invisible blade can go? Of course, all Bil knows about magic is from mere observation and speculation.  

“It’s the least I can do for my darling Bilba.”  

“Mother,” Bil begins and jerks back at the too-quick turn of Mother’s head, hair swishing around her neck. It must be nice to have short hair, Bil half-thinks, before pushing on. “Why am I not allowed to know anything about magic?”  

Her face darkens in increments, the light fading around them.  

“You are not to ask about magic,” Mother hisses, standing and her chair falling with a clatter that makes Bil flinch. “You are to know nothing of magic.”  

The answer is somewhat as she expected, but a tight knot still forms in her stomach as Mother leaves, kicking the chair out of her way, dress fluttering behind her as she floats back to the ground. The knot makes it hard to eat and Bil pushes the plate away and stands. She wants to be destructive, flip the table, break the plates, crush the strawberries, but she doesn’t do any of that. It’s not in her nature.  

How long will she be gone this time, Bil wonders as she picks up the abused chair, brushing the seat. How long will she have to live in this Tower of hers? She knows how many flagstones make the floor, she intimately knows the feel of her bedsheets on her skin, the pillow Mother had bought last year, the title of every single book she owns. There is nothing new here, nothing exciting or interesting in the least.   
  
  


The next day looks like rain, with heavy, dark clouds forming in the distance. Bil doesn’t care much for rain, isn’t a cold weather person in general, and dearly hopes that they’ll head north or south rather than come east towards her. A brisk breeze flows through the Tower, though, which makes Bil think that the bad weather will come her way, no matter what she wants.  

Shivering, wrapping hair around her torso, Bil closes the western door to prevent the chilly breezes and when she steps out onto the easter balcony, she spies two men walking through the forest. Bil almost closes this door as well, but then the two emerge and with wide smiles and waves identify themselves as Fili and Kili.  

“My fair lady, you are as radiant as ever!” Fili pushes Kili lightly at the flirt, but they’re both smiling widely at her, each carrying a wicker basket.  

Going to the edge, Bil grins down at them. “I happen to be four years your senior, Kili.”  

Fili laughs at that, setting his basket down when they stop. “Kili is just an incurable flirt, so please take no offence Miss Blueberry.”  

“None was ever taken, Fili, I just find it endlessly amusing. How are you so sure I am fair if you can only see me from this great distance?”

Kili puffs up, his basket now next to Fili’s. “Your hair was a wondrous thing and no matter how ugly your face might be, your hair would more than make up for it.”  

Bil can’t help but pinken and the next thing she knows, the two teens are wrestling in the grass, laughing at each other. She frowns as she watches them, because it looks so dreadfully violent, but they don’t seem to be in pain.  

“Are you two alright? I hope you aren’t fighting,” she frets and soon they break apart, hair tousled and half out of their ponytails.  

“Oh, we were just playing, fair lady,” Kili calls up to her. “As brothers do.”  

She smiles uncertainly. Brothers play with each other by wrestling so? “I see.”  

“Our uncle told us to bring you some things,” Fili says, standing up and brushing stray pieces of grass off him. “We would like to give you some items, but we’re unsure of the best way to deliver the goods.”  

“Is that why you were carrying those baskets?” Bil asks, astonished. “What have you brought me?”  

“Food, mostly, and a couple of books.”  

“Hmm,” she murmurs. “Unfortunately I don’t believe you have a way of delivering said goods.”  

They grin, far too widely for Bil’s comfort. They must have a plan and Bil doesn’t think it’s going to be very nice or to her liking.  

“Would you let down your hair for us, please?”  

She stares at them. “What for?” Then her eyes narrow at them in suspicion. “You’re not going to try and climb my hair, are you? I’ll have you know that is impossible. I might have a lot of hair, but it would fall out if you tried to climb it. Please don’t try.”  

The two laugh, Kili more uproariously than Fili. “That’s pure nonsense; why would we try and climb your hair? No, Miss Blueberry, we plan to tie your hair around the baskets.”  

Her mouth drops. “How is that any different?”  

“Well,” Kili kicks in, throwing an arm around his brother’s shoulders. “It’s a fraction the weight of us, fair lady, and your hair is surely heavier than the baskets. We’ll do it one at a time, if you please.”  

“I doubt you’ll even notice the weight difference,” Fili adds. “They’re relatively light.”  

Biting her lip, Bil slowly unwinds her hair from her torso and shivers at the snapping breeze. It causes the hem of her dress to flutter and her hair sways slightly when she lets it fall. “Give it a try,” she calls out and feels light tugs as they attach one of the baskets to her hair.  

Despite Fili’s reassurance, Bil can feel the difference. It hurts, though once she’s lifted a couple of feet onto the balcony, she winds it around her leg to stop the strain on her scalp.  

“Easy, wasn’t it, fair lady?” Kili calls up to her. She sniffs in reply, though the wind takes the sound away.  

“I already own one of these books,” she calls down when she opens the basket. It is full of food, mostly food she doesn’t know. “But what are these foods? They look most exotic.”  

“You don’t know chocolate?” Fili says back. “The dark brown block is chocolate, a sugary treat, and we have included plenty of potatoes, the brown vegetable, the softer, brown items are kiwifruit. Do you truly not know any of them?”  

She touches each of them. The chocolate is firm, the potatoes as well, but the kiwifruit has a light fuzz that interests her. “Why does it have fur?”  

“It is hair, fair lady, and you should know that the skin is not edible, including the hair.”  

She peers at it and mumbles ‘how am I to take it off?’ to herself. “Fili and Kili, I happen to possess no knives so I will be returning these kiwifruits and the book I already have.” She takes out the potatoes, though she doesn’t know yet what she’ll do with them, and a book of poetry she’s never heard of and lowers the basket tied with her hair down.  

They’re smiling widely at her and, just then, Bil feels a raindrop hit her head and whips her head up to look at the sky. “It’s raining,” she murmurs, feeling the tugging of them untying the basket. It hurts, but a good portion of the tugging is prevented by the hair securely wrapped around her leg. Next time she’ll wrap it around the railing, as it’s more sturdy.  

“Fili, Kili, please take shelter somewhere,” she yells down to them as she feels the rain start to fall more steadily upon her back and hair. They give her sharp salutes, grinning easily at her and her heart aches as they scamper back into the forest.  

She takes her new items inside, gathering the potatoes in the skirt of her dress and the book tucked under her arm. But where to hide them? Casting around desperately, she tosses the book onto her table for now and tucks the potatoes in and around her other stacks of food in secretive little nooks. Hopefully Mother won’t notice, though Bil will try and eat all the potatoes before Mother gets back. It’d be nice if Bil likes them, though she’s not very sure how to eat them either.  

With the food taken care of, Bil turns to the book and lightly runs fingers around the spine and edges of the pages. Something sticks out and, frowning, Bil turns to the page and a letter falls out. The envelope is heavy, the paper smooth to the touch and the address of her name is only faintly indented. It was not closed all the way, and Bil takes out paper of the same high quality and her eyes scan down the page before she reaches the end and reads Thorin’s name as the sender. Her eyes narrow, but she’s never received a letter before and she’s willing to forego the slight of earlier and read this.  

> _Miss Blueberry,_
> 
> _I apologize for my unkind words before, but they were born of concern for your life. You state that you are perfectly happy in this tower of yours, but I believe that you are fooled into thinking you are happy. You are a caged bird, Miss Blueberry, and have had no experience of the ups and downs of freedom. I will admit that freedom is not always perfect but it is not perfect because it is a world created by choice. Your life, however pleasing, will never be free because your wings have been clipped._
> 
> _My nephews will provide anything you would ever desire, so please feel free to ask them to bring anything. I will not visit again unless you ask for it, but please know that I regret my unfortunate choice of words earlier. They were not meant in malice and I have been frequently told that my words are too blunt._
> 
> _Best wishes,_
> 
> _Thorin_

Thoughtfully, Bil folds the letter and slides it back into the envelope. She has forgiven him, yes, as she sees no point in holding a grudge for this. The comparison to a caged bird makes her marginally happier than the pitiable, but a caged bird is also pitiable. Bil had never seen herself like that, though she can’t help but see it now. Mother provides everything for her: food, furniture, the few dresses she owns and the sewing kit to fix them. The sharpest object she owns is a needle and the books themselves are limited; she’s not allowed to leave, damage her hair, know about magic.

The more she thinks about it the more it disagrees with her.


	3. Chapter 3

The balcony is wet the next morning. Rain had poured all through the night, though Bil had been able to watch the sunset without a misty filter of rain. She does not go out onto the balcony, as she doesn’t want to become wet and then dirty the inside. There are no carpets on the floor to protect from wet hair or feet and Bil has never before needed shoes, nor has she ever particularly thought that she’d want them. Now the lack is a reminder of how little she knows. Most surely those who live in towns need them, or those who live in woods, near rivers, all over the place. They are to protect the feet, and the thought that she is so protected in her Tower, in her cage, to not need them, starts to sicken her.  

The analogy makes too much sense on a second reading and after a nights sleep. The Tower is her cage and her keeper is Mother: it is frighteningly easy to believe. She loves her Mother, loves her so dearly, her clear eyes and unblemished skin, but why does she leave her so often? Why is she not to know magic, not allowed to leave, nor touch her hair? It doesn’t make sense to her and Bil is sick of the consequences for any possible transgression.  

When Fili and Kili come by, mid afternoon, the balcony has dried though Bil can see that the ground has not because their horses are mud flecked. The two remain clean for a while, though soon after descending from their horses they are throwing mud at each other and rolling around, laughing so loudly Bil aches to join them. She doesn’t know how to play this game of theirs, doesn’t know if she’d be allowed to join, but it looks more fun than anything Bil has ever tried to do on her own.  

“The rain has provided you with some amusement, then,” she calls down when the two are done.  

“Mud is always good fun to play in,” Fili says, blonde hair barely visible through the mud that Kili had smeared through it. The ponytails are entirely gone after their romp, and it is draggled all around their faces, though Bil isn’t sure she distinguish between the color of mud and hair for Kili.  

“I wouldn’t know,” she says back. “For I have never had the opportunity.”  

“Why, fair lady, that might possibly be the saddest thing I have ever heard!”  

The smile on Bil’s face freezes. “I have heard sadder things than not knowing mud,” she responds stiffly.  

“Aye, like what?”  

“Arrogance,” she offers, holding her head high. Her hair trails behind her, the ends currently curled around one of the chairs.  

Neither of the two brothers respond to that, instead they proffer another basket. “We have another delivery for you, Miss Blueberry.”  

“Indeed? I have read the letter your uncle wrote and have a request for you.” She leans over the railing. It’s cold, digging into the bodice of her dress and into her body, and she wants to step back but remains.

“And what does the fair lady desire?”  

A smirk curls her lips. “A knife. I wish to try that kiwifruit from yesterday, but I require a knife. I would like a decent sized one that can be used on more than a small fruit, possibly bread. Are you able to bring me one?”  

“Of course, Miss Blueberry.” Fili is as playful as Kili, but he can be entirely more serious at times. It’s odd, Bil thinks, for two young lads to be visiting her like this as well. Surely they have sweethearts in Dale, or whence ever they truly came from, or something more important to do with their lives. “Is there aught else?”  

“Actually, yes,” she says, glancing to the letter resting on her table still. “Might I have some paper and a writing utensil? I am sure you know that your uncle wrote me a letter and I believe that the best way for us to communicate is by correspondence.”  

The two grin at her. “Uncle Thorin thinks you a fair lady as well,” Kili calls to her, Fili elbowing him a moment later.  

“That he does, Miss Blueberry, and we shall endeavor to bring them to you as soon as possible.”  

“Also, how are you supposed to eat potatoes?”  

Both of their mouths drop. “You cook them, Miss Blueberry,” Fili adds, his voice stumbling and almost not reaching Bil entirely. “Either over a fire or by boiling.”  

“Hmm, well, I’ll have to return those potatoes then because I have no way of cooking them on my own.”  

Kili frowns. “Do you live alone then, fair lady?”  

“Not quite,” Bil calls over her shoulder as she heads back inside, hunting for the potatoes and gathering them in her skirt again. “My Mother visits. It is she who provides me with food and other essentials.”  

“And she would be adverse to cooking potatoes?”  

Bil was going to wait for the basket, with the hair escalator, but insteads throws them over the edge. They break into parts when they hit the ground. “Do not speak of what you do not know,” she hisses. “I was risking punishment just by talking to you once, what sort of punishment do you think I would receive if she discovered we had repeatedly met and you had given me food? What do you think she would do to _you_?”  

The two scramble to pick up the broken pieces of potatoes; Bil does feel a bit bad for that, but at the same time there’s a vindictive sense of pleasure.  

“Miss Blueberry,” Fili says, once they had finished rapidly collecting the potatoes. “We did not know that you would be in trouble for talking to us, but if it is so, why talk to us? We seem to only cause trouble.”  

She stares at Fili, who stares solemnly back at her. How can she say _because you’re the first people I’ve ever talked to_? She can’t, so Bil instead says, “I’ll keep that reason to myself.”  

Neither of the two look like they approve as they exchange glances. “I think that we should leave for today and return when we have the items you asked for, Miss Blueberry.”  

“I see,” she says in reply, leaning over the edge again, wondering if she really would die if she leaned just a little too far. It’s moments like now that she wishes she could escape. “Farewell.”

 

 

Bil spends the next few days composing letters in her head. She wants to reply to Thorin, to respond to the jab he had given her with the most sensible reasons she can think of, but they’re difficult to think of. _This is all I’ve ever known_ and _you don’t know me_ don’t seem like good replies when being told she’s a caged bird with clipped wings. She can feel it all the more acutely with Mother’s absence, as she’s still upset over the magic question.  

Magic is something Bil burns to do, but she doesn’t know the slightest bit about magic. She wouldn’t want to risk Mother finding out that she had been trying, as there are so many ways she could mess up. She could set something on fire, she could make something combust, she could slice her own arm off. That’s not something that Bil is particularly interested in doing, even if by accident.  

She used to have paper and a quill. It was when she was young, though the paper has long been disposed of without Bil noticing, and Mother had insisted that she know her letters. At the time Bil couldn’t have cared less and suffered patiently through every lesson and every scolding until she could write a fair hand. She never used to see why knowing how to write would come in hand, though it taught her letters for reading. It has been a long time since she’s needed to know how to write and she’s not sure if her hand still remembers the feel of a quill, the curve her fingers must take. She wonders where the paper went and if Mother had something to do with it, and the thought seems silly only for a moment.  

It’s another way for Bil to remain caged. It makes her irrationally angry.

 

 

They return with the knife and parchment for Bil, and she asks them if they might wait as she writes the letter that has been turning over and over in her head.  

 

 

> _Sir Thorin,_
> 
> _Your letter made me unhappy for how correct you are. I have lived here all my life, you see, and have no sense of the outside world. All I know is what I’ve learned in books and what Mother has told me. It is why I believed you were bandits the first day we met, because those were the only people I was told were around. I don’t know why she told me this, but I have never once thought that I understood Mother. She is all I have ever known, and why else would I think more of the world than what I know?_
> 
> _I understand your concern and am most grateful that you care for me, though we have only met twice, the latter time ending poorly. I feel I must apologize for my poor behavior at the time and that blunt words are often times necessary words._
> 
> _Thank you for your letter and for your offer, but I’m not sure if there is much point to it. I am starting to believe, as you said, that I am a clipped bird. I just fear that my wings have been clipped for so long that freedom is beyond me._
> 
> _Blueberry_
> 
> _PS. I do not feel comfortable asking your nephews this, but are there such things as magic books?_

She has no envelope, so she simply folds it up and lowers it down in the basket again. Bil’s worked out a system now, of looping her hair around the railing. It can take medium weights, though she believes that she’s only been fine so far because the items have been relatively light.  

They give her short bows, grins, and disappear into the forest. Pulling her hair up with a grimace, she unwinds it from the railing and goes to inspect the knife they have given her. It’s the size of her forearm, bigger than she had expected, and edged on both sides. Bil’s not quite sure what she had been expecting, but it certainly is more than her expectations. It’s sharp, very sharp, and she decides to hide it under her bed because there are few other places where she could hide such an object.  

A letter is brought for her the next day, in Thorin’s neat block. It almost makes her despair, because her writing looks unfortunately scrawled in comparison. Fili and Kili, the dear boys, wait for her to reply while rolling around in the grass and their bright shouts of joy make her smile. She had never thought of siblings before, but hearing the sort of happiness having one can bring makes her smile.  

Thorin’s letter is polite but blunt again, and there are queries as to her health, happiness, requests and then a small answer about magic. He does not know, but is willing to search into it for her. His sincerity makes her smile; somehow she doubts that Thorin would know how to lie, though she’s not sure she could lie either. Changing her name is not quite a lie, as it’s more of a protection, so she doesn’t count telling the three her name is Blueberry as a lie.  

Curious about everything, Bil includes plenty of questions in her letter. She knows she could ask Fili and Kili and they would happily oblige, but she prefers correspondence. She’d rather have distant contact with a person, something that gives her a tangible connection, than the shouting matches they have because of her thirty foot Tower. She does not include her reasoning, and hopes that the two don’t mind playing messenger for them. From then, Bil receives letters nearly every day from Thorin and she replies accordingly, hoarding them like they’re precious jewels she’s never seen before.

 

 

Mother returns after a little more than a week in the late evening, and Bil has eaten all the food brought to her by Fili and Kili and found an appetite for chocolate. She’s smiling brightly, as she always does, and Bil can’t stop the smile that curves its way onto her face in return. “Welcome back, Mother,” she murmurs as she lands next to her on the balcony.  

“I’ve been doing some thinking,” Mother says, patting Bil on her head and entering the Tower. “And I think we should spend more time together.”

“Doing what?” Bil inquisitively asks, folding her book and following her mother, accidentally stepping on her hair as she enters.  

“I’d like to brush your hair again.”  

Bil frowns. “But none of the brushes are any good. You’ve brought endless amounts of brushes, but not one has lasted for the entirety of my hair.”  

Mother’s eyes twinkle, and Bil’s smiles at the twinkle, bemused. “I happen to have bought a new brush,” she exclaims, as though Bil is supposed to be happy. Maybe she is; her first response, however, is to blink as to why this is so wonderful.  

“Er, I suppose that’s nice. May I see it?” She flourishes it from behind her back and Bil tries not to recoil. It looks almost like a torture instrument, thin needles with little to no space between them and pointed edges. “Mother, my hair looks too thick for that.”  

“Nonsense,” Mother replies, pushing her to the chair and sitting her down in it. “I think it will work perfectly well.”  

“Unlike the last ones?” Bil asks doubtfully. “Besides, this one looks painful.”  

Mother’s hands are rather like her: gentle only when necessary and quite often not even then. They tug on Bil’s hair as she arranges it as she pleases, circling on the floor. “A little pain does everyone good.”  

Bil frowns. “Mother, I don’t think this sort of pain will do me any sort of good.”  

The brushing starts anyways, from the top of her scalp. Bil tries not to yelp at the sharp pulls, the needles that scratch her scalp. Slowly Mother makes her way through her hair, though she only gets halfway until the sun is utterly gone. She mutters something while standing.  

“By the way, darling, your birthday is soon upon us.”  

Blinking, Bil turns to look at her. It’s that time of year already and explains why Mother wants to brush her hair. Every year, around her birthday, Mother brushes her hair as best she can. “Oh, is that so? This year has quite flown by.”  

“That it has. Is there anything you wish for?”  

Bil turns to look at Mother and traces the lines of her face almost desperately with her eyes. “Maybe cloth for a new dress.”  

Mother’s smile is loving and sweet as her hands, gently this time, run through the hair at her scalp. “I’ll buy some nice, blue cloth for you then and how about you wear your new dress for your birthday?”  

“Okay.” She breathes deeply. “Mother, I love you.”  

“I love you too, my sweet Bilba. Now why don’t you head to bed now?”

 

 

When Bil wakes up, Mother’s gone. She doesn’t know if this is something she should learn to expect, a constant absence rather than a constant presence, but she’s not sure if she’s allowed to ask for more. For long moments she sits on her bed, legs swung over the side, staring out towards the sky and the endless forest, able to feel the hilt of the knife. A bird landing on her railing and chirping over loudly startles her and Bil stares at it with wide eyes.  

The bird is plain: brown feathers interspersed with white, small beak and equally small eyes. It’s precious in its size, though, and Bil smiles as it hops back and forth on the railing but the smile falls as she recalls her birthday.  

A plan is forming in her mind, a plan that she’s almost too scared to put into place. On one hand, she wants to leave, but yet she doesn’t; her only consolation is that she has at least a week. The letters she and Thorin have been exchanging lend her to believe that he will be able to deliver a book on magic to her, though she’s not sure when he is to arrive.  

Fear clenches her heart at the thought of them coming by when Mother is here. She is always frequently by for long periods of time around her birthday, Bil is unsure as to why, but she would rather keep the three away for as long as possible.  

Her plan is all about running away and finding a life for herself, though she has a few tangles that she hopes Thorin will help untangle. She’s unsure as to how she’ll escape the Tower, a half-idea is forming in her mind, but the magic book will help a great deal with figuring out what to do. She’s also unsure about what she should take. Any books, food, sheets? Her clothes? What are her necessities?  

Honestly, this is why Bil had never wanted to leave before. _Logistics_. Such a pain, really.  

“Miss Blueberry?”  

The bellow frightens her and she falls off her bed, hand going towards the knife unconsciously. The call is repeated and she scrambles up to the balcony, tripping on her hair and sprawling on the ground.  

“Just a moment, please, I’ve just—” She trips again and ends up crawling out to the balcony, smiling sheepishly down at—  

Oh. Right. Thorin. She’s so used to the cheerful camaraderie of Fili and Kili that not seeing them there, smiling and the embodiment of happiness that Bil wants for herself, that Thorin’s impassive face is a surprise.  

“You just...?” He asks, frowning slightly. She had also forgotten how deep his voice was, as well as how long his hair. It’s not nearly as long as hers— nothing is, honestly— but he looks older than Fili and Kili suddenly, manlier.  

“I tripped. On my hair.”  

The frown deepens for a moment and then he smiles widely. “I can believe that, miss.”  

She wrinkles her nose. “It hurt.”  

“I can believe that too.”  

She brings her leg to front and rubs her shin self-consciously. “I hadn’t realized how different letters can be.”  

He bows quickly in response to that. “I apologize for any insult.”  

“There was no insult,” she replies, nonplussed. “Just an observation.”  

Thorin looks up at her. He’s taller than his nephews but Bil can’t tell by how much. “Bluntness is rather different in person than letters and for my rudeness I apologize again.”  

“There was no insult given, sir,” Bil says impatiently, waving it away. “So please stop with the apologizing. It’s not like neither of us are rather special, no? We’re two simple folk, though one happens to live in a Tower.” She pauses thoughtfully. “Well, I guess that means I’m not quite as simple as I thought.”  

Thorin laughs, surprising her. “You are quite refreshing to listen to, Miss Blueberry.”  

“I suppose so,” she mumbles, peering down at him. “You’re not so simple either, if I think of it.” The chuckles die out much faster suddenly, and he’s looking up at her with a vulnerable expression Bil doesn’t understand. “I doubt your nephews would visit me if it was not for your request, so you are quite possibly the nicest person I have ever met.”  

The smile quirks back into place, vulnerable expression fading and Bil smiles in relief. “You have only met four people in the entirety of your life, but I will take that as a most generous compliment.”  

“Do. I have met quite a few people through books.”  

The smile widens. Bil can see the relation between him and his nephews in that smile; it comes easily to the two boys and Bil’s not sure how often Thorin smiles, but they all have wide, opening smiles. “Those people are often the best sort of people.”  

“I live vicariously through them,” she agrees, but her smile fades in degrees in realization of her words. Yes. She does live vicariously through them, because her own life is nothing in comparison. She has no ballgowns, no trousers, no special ability to speak of other than the extraordinary rate her hair grows. And that she wouldn’t classify as an ability but as an annoyance.  

“There is no problem with that,” Thorin chuckles and Bil stares at him.  

“No problem?” She echoes. “So this doesn’t make me more of a caged bird?”  

Thorin winces slightly, though he remains smiling. “I know many people who are dissatisfied with their lives and read books for the same purpose. There are those with restrictions upon them and are unable to do many things other folk can do.”  

“Are they caged birds as well?”  

He cocks his head thoughtfully. “Miss Blueberry, you could posit that nearly everyone is a caged bird. Some have beautiful gilded cages and some cages are mean, but none are quite so literal as the Tower that I see representing your cage. And for most folk, they can earn the chance to leave their cages.”  

“Why, sir, you have quite astonished me.” And this is quite possibly the most true statement Bil has ever made in her life: nothing else has ever made her think quite as much, the idea that she is not alone in her entrapment. The possibility that everyone is searching for a better home for themselves is comforting and gives her more confidence in her plan. “Now, I believe you are here with a magic book?”  

Thorin shifts, cloak swishing the grass lightly. “Yes, though I remain unclear as to why you want such a book. Magic, while not rare, is still rather uncommon and I hope you don’t disappoint yourself in your attempts.”  

“Sir Thorin,” Bil states. “I have three rules and somehow I doubt that I would be kept from magic if I was unable to do any. Logically it makes no sense.”  

He shifts again, looking back towards the forest and where his horse is tied up, then up towards her. “How do my nephews do this?”  

She grins. “I let down my hair.” Thorin stands there, as though waiting and she raises an eyebrow. “Are you not going to ask?”  

“Right, then,” Thorin sounds uncomfortable, which makes Bil feel a certain kind of glee. “Miss Blueberry, will you please let down your hair?” Bil almost pushes it a little more, thinks of asking him to compliment her hair atrociously, but refrains. She’d rather not hear it, as she’s not sure she could take the compliments. It’s odd enough hearing them from Kili, who extols them like flower petals, but from Thorin it would mean something else altogether.  

“Of course,” Bil replies sweetly, tugging her hair and looping it over the railing. She watches it tumble down and the slight pull on her scalp, most of it buffered by the rail, when it reaches the bottom. “I was never quite sure how Fili and Kili managed to attach it...” She trails off into silence as she watches Thorin defly loop hair around a satchel.  

“You three are truly family,” she remarks when Thorin nods up at her, a small smile playing on his lips. When she has pulled all her hair up, the satchel is such a size that Bil would like to keep it. Inside is a thick book, though smaller than others she has seen and she pulls it out reverently, fingers sweeping over the tooled leather. The title is simple: _On Magic_. Absently, the thought that Mother might have read this book runs through her mind.  

“Sir Thorin,” Bil begins, peering over the railing. “I cannot thank you enough.”  

His smile now hides his teeth. “It is a gift; you may take the satchel as well. There is little I can do for you, unlike many others, so I wish to make life as easy as possible for you.”  

Tears come to her eyes, unbidden. “I am so grateful to you and both of your nephews. If you hadn’t found me and talked to me, I would most likely believe that leaving here is impossible.”  

“Does that mean you are thinking of escaping?”  

Bil leans her head against the sun-warmed iron. “Most likely, yes.”  

“I will help as much as I possibly can.”  

Her hands tighten on the book. “I will not ask you for any more. I know I have little to my name, but I have pride. I have let myself live this life for twenty years— do you know, my birthday is in a few days?” Her laugh is brittle. “You have done more than enough, sir, than anyone else could have done.”  

Thorin does not say anything.  

“You say your words are blunt, that you have the social graces of an irascible dragon, but I think that, sometimes, your bluntness is exactly what is needed.”  

“You are too kind,” Thorin says, his voice lower than usual. “And I will hold your words to heart when my sister scolds me.”  

She ducks her head, the iron bar pressing against the part in her hair. “What’s your sister like?”  

“She is more than ten years my senior, only a little shorter than me, and quite impossible to handle.”  

Bil laughs softly. “Is she your only sibling?”  

Thorin takes a long time to answer. “Miss Blueberry, siblings are sometimes a blessing, sometimes a curse. Do not be jealous because I have them and you do not.”  

“I’m not jealous.” Her reply isn’t as high-handed as she had wanted it to sound, it doesn’t hold the projected arrogance she wanted. “I’m not. I just wonder what it’s like.”  

“Miss Blueberry, everything will be okay. I promise you that I will do whatever I can for you.”  

She brings her head back up and shifts, the book tightly clasped in her hand still, hair pooling around her waist and around the balcony. The very ends of it curve over the edge of the stone. “I will hold you to that promise.”

 

 

The pages in the magic book are almost soft under the sensitive pads of her fingers and there are so many spells, so much to read, and all of it is interspersed with diagrams. Bil takes a long time just turning page after page, amazed at all this knowledged, before she even tries to start reading. The first pages are about theory, the development of magical theory starting hundreds of years ago and the progress made since then. Impatient, Bil skips those pages for now and to the pages of practicing magic.  

It is as she had thought earlier: intent and concentration. As time goes by and users become more adept, the magic flows more easily through their fingers, as that is where magic is concentrated. Bil reads through all of this eagerly, mumbling the words under her breath as her eyes fly back and forth, finger trailing down the lines.  

When she reaches the first spell, she’s almost too scared to try it. Her hands quiver slightly and she sets the book down on the floor and breathes deeply, sitting straight and pressing a hand to the bottom of her ribs, just under her breasts. In and out, she tells herself. Just in and out. She can do this.  

It’s a spell for lifting objects, and the book says that first-time practitioners should snap, eyes on the object, and say the proper incantation (for this, lift), but it says that after time, all that is needed is just a pointed finger. The first-time practitioners should attempt this with a small object, smaller even than a book, but again as before, with practice bigger objects should be no problem.  

Bil has a grape in front of her. It’s small enough, she thinks, for this spell, as well as posing no problem in case something goes wrong. She breathes deeply again, staring at the oblong, green fruit before snapping her fingers, saying “lift” and concentrates on the grape lifting.  

At first it wobbles, but then it floats a few inches into the air. Her concentration breaks and it falls back, spinning and rolling into her knees. Bil swallows, heart bursting in her chest, breath coming too rapidly for comfort. She can do magic. Despite her bluff to Thorin, she had remained unsure, but this is it.  

She can do _magic_ , just like Mother. Bil only wonders why Mother didn’t want her to know how to.  


	4. Chapter 4

The cloth Mother brings is soft to the touch, supple and Bil is grateful at the sturdy feel it has. It would be terrible if it was flimsy, easily torn, and an added bonus is its beautiful, deep blue color. She can’t stop touching the cloth, draping it over her slender body and whirling around the room the entire time Mother is present.  

Mother seems pleased with Bil’s joy, eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiles, teeth bared the slightest bit in her smile. “It is the finest quality cloth I could find. It is not quite silk, but I thought that slik would dirty too easily.”  

Bil’s smile falters a bit. The Tower is nowhere near dirty, what was Mother thinking? Of course, it’s good for Bil, plan firm in her mind, but Mother doesn’t know that. “It is perfectly lovely, Mother. I adore it.”  

“Your birthday is so soon that I hope you’ll be able to wear your new dress for your birthday.”  

Bil kneels next to Mother’s chair, who starts to run a hand through her hair. “I hope so too. It’s been awhile since I’ve had to ply needle and thread.”  

“I’m sure you’ll do fine.” A few moments pass, Bil kneeling quietly, an ache starting to form in her ankles from the position, but unable to move because Mother’s hand is still twined through her hair.  

“You have the most beautiful hair in the world, darling Bilba. Have I ever told you that?”  

She leans into the touch; Mother’s hands feel wonderful on the sensitive skin of her scalp. There won’t be many more of these occasions, and Bil decides to take advantage of them as much as she can. In fact, there aren’t many moments like these, Mother sweet and soothing and it would have been a treasured memory without her impending departure.  

“Well, you do, sweetheart. The most beautiful hair in the world, worth more than a King’s ransom.”  

Bil nods her head in rhythm to the delicate scrape of nails on her skin and does not reply. This must be why she’s so adamant that Bil never touch her hair. It almost makes her feel bad for what she’s planning, but not to the extent of not going through with it.  


As usual, Mother leaves late in the evening and Bil immediately tackles the cloth she left behind. She’ll probably be back sometime in the evening tomorrow, and in the meantime Bil intends to put as much work into creating a pair of trousers and a shirt. The idea of creating men’s clothing had creeped into her mind when watching Fili and Kili tumblr all around; they looked much easier to move in, and she thinks it might be easier to walk around in clothes like these instead of a dress. Less chafing, for sure, and less likely to receive any cuts on her legs.  

Bil doesn’t know much about a forest, but she’s going to protect herself as much as possible. She’d rather not have any snakes crawling up her leg, on her bare skin, and so she’s going to go for the whole trousers thing as a precaution. Well. She’s never seen a snake before, only read about them, but they sound entirely horrid and are often used in some sort of horrific way and apparently they crawl on the ground and Bil just does not understand snakes in the slightest. The only thing she knows for certain is that she would rather have snakes as far away from her personage as possible.  

Which pretty much sums up her entire view on half the things out there she doesn’t know, but Bil has decided that, for once in her life, she is going to be brave. Asking Mother about magic, pushing the limit with her, is not being brave, but this is. This is most definitely brave, going outside of the small box of her comfort zone, and she will do it with pleasure. At least, she hopes so. Once she reaches the ground, there is no going back.  

Bil has to be sure, and this indecision of hers, all this waffling, will get her nowhere.  


The trousers are more difficult than she thought, but the pattern is quickly cut and Bil makes herself go to bed. The cloth lies over the table and, as she was always an earlier riser, she is up with the sun and she starts working once more on sewing it all together. She’s not sure exactly how to make sure it’ll stay up around her hips, but she’ll figure something out. She’s basing it loosely on what she had been able to perceive of Thorin, Fili and Kili’s wear.  

Part way through sewing the trousers she gets sick and tired of it, the sun almost at its apex, and sets it aside to work on the shirt. She’s not sure much about shirts either, but figures that it’s similar to a dress and cuts the cloth accordingly and starts sewing.  

When her fingers have too many pin pricks of pain to continue, Bil puts the clothes to the side to reads more of _On Magic_. The clothes are almost complete, the bottom of the trousers left to sew and the shirt is... getting along, somehow. It’s going to be a bit bigger than she had first anticipated, since she’s really not all that good at darts and all. That’s more Mother’s expertise, and Bil’s not going to be here long enough for Mother to help with these. She wouldn’t help anyways and would demand to know where she had seen such clothing.  

They’ll fit oddly on her, but Bil would rather wear clothes that would help her fit into the outside world than a dress. The dresses are uncomfortable at times, though once fitted perfectly, they are dresses she made years ago. She’s grown since then, only a little in height, but her hips have widened and her breasts have swelled and pushed uncomfortably against the tight cloth that restrains them.  

The clothes are stuffed into a corner that Mother would never look at when she returns. She’s wielding a new brush, a smile in her eyes and Bil sits in the chair and lets her brush her hair again. This one isn’t as sharp as the previous one, but this one pulls more and she winces and yelps more than the day before. Mother doesn’t apologize and Bil goes through the new spells she read to distract her mind.  

Mother leaves and Bil takes the clothes out again, and for some time she sits on the balcony, watching the sunset, a few candles already lit behind her. She expects that this is the last sunset she will ever see and she drinks it in. The reds and pinks are beautiful, tendrils of light shooting through clouds, and it transforms into a dusky blue that Bil will always love. It’s so soft, so close and she wants to reach out and touch it, cradle it in her arms and fall asleep.  

Around her curls hair that has been brushed to silky smoothness by Mother. It hasn’t been like this in a very long time, so clean and tangle-free, and Bil wonders why Mother always brushes it so seriously before her birthday. Yesterday was the first time she had ever said anything of Bil’s hair and Bil wonders if it really is all that special. It is the only part of her she feels attached to because it has been an ever-constant friend through her long years in this Tower.  

When the sun is finally gone, stars blinking into view, the starry sky her second favorite sight, she sighs, heaves herself to her feet and returns to work on the clothes.  


If there is one thing Bil always wondered about, it is her looks. How does she appear to Mother, to other people? Is her chin rounded, her eyelashes long, eyes a pretty color? She honestly has no idea what color her eyes even are, and it’s as she hefts the knife in her hand that she realizes what a loss having no mirror was. This is the last chance she has before cutting all her hair off to see what she had looked like for twenty years, for although Bil doesn’t know what she’ll look like in another year, she will never look like this again.  

Bil doesn’t know where she will be, if she can even find Thorin or his nephews, but she figures she can take this one step at a time.  

The knife’s grip digs into the soft skin of her palm and the pricks on her fingertips smart. Gathering her hair in the best fistful she can make, Bil cuts it off. It is harder than she thought it would be and she has to saw at it, hand jerking loose as she works her way through. When she has gone through the entire handful, her hair bobs around her neck and is uncomfortably itchy. The ends are sharper than she thought they would be and she has to keep herself from reaching back and scratching the nape of her neck.  

The sun has not started setting yet and Mother left only twenty minutes earlier. Bil doesn’t know where she goes at night, though she used to ache to know because she was a young child left alone high above the ground. Going to the balcony, Bil ties her cut-off hair around the railing and, recalling the spell, snaps, points and whispers “attach.” The hair stays put even after a tug, though Bil’s stomach roils at the thought of climbing down it, and standing in the middle of the Tower, she slowly cuts her hair shorter to the scalp all around. She wants it all off, but doesn’t believe herself capable of cutting it safely enough to not nick her head. Bil would hate to bleed all the way through her journey. As she passes the table to grab the clothes from where she had stashed them, the note to Mother flutters. It’s simple, with only a farewell and her name written upon the parchment.  

The shirt is far too big and her breasts feel uncomfortable without any support and, frustrated, Bil tears one of her dresses and wraps it around, pressing them a little flatter. Not necessarily the most comfortable thing in the world, but it keeps them still and is more comfortable than giving them no support whatsoever. The trousers don’t stay around her waist, but Bil doesn’t know what to do about that to help so she does nothing.  

Into Thorin’s satchel, the one he had given her, she quickly packs her magic book, a couple other books, the knife, and some food. She’s not sure how much food to pack, nor what would be good, and she has no good way of carrying water with her. Bil can’t help but hope that she’ll stumble upon water sources often on her way to find other people.  

With the bag slung over her shoulder, new clothes on, there’s only one thing left to do. Until now, Bil has never thought that she was scared of heights. What was there ever to be scared of? She was always safe within the railings of her Tower, no chance of falling unless she acted stupid, but this is something completely different. Swallowing, Bil clambers over the edge of the railing and plants her bare feet on the balcony. The cut off hair is next to her hands, and she grabs it before she gets too nervous.  

Her hands are sweaty already, but her hair has always been supple and does not slip through her fingers. Deep breaths, Bil tells herself, refusing to look down. She feels in danger already, hand on her hair rather than the railing, and inches over so her hair falls directly below her. Then she takes her feet off and hangs there for a moment.  

It’s the most frightening moment of her life. When she had first met Thorin, Fili and Kili is nothing on this, and her lonesome childhood isn’t quite like this. She is not only alone, but in danger of falling and injuring herself. Her arms are hurting already and slowly she lets go with one hand and brings it down, just below the other.  

Halfway down, her arms are a trembling mess. Bil’s not sure how she’s going to make it to the bottom and she refuses to look down to see how much further she has left. It doesn’t matter, it’s all one distance to her at this point anyways. It is simply tantalizingly close, one leap left for freedom, and she will get through this. Going down is easier, at least, her hands moving through the motions of one under the other with more ease than she thought they would. They’re still sweaty, but not as sweaty as before, and when she can see tree trunks in her peripheral vision, Bil lets go.  

Her feet jar on contact and she feels it all through her body. Her arms hang numbly at her sides, the satchel’s straps dig into her shoulders, and Bil thumps down to the ground. So this is what dirt is like, she thinks, digging fingers into the ground. And grass, and that is how tall trees are. This is what the Tower looks like from below and it is much taller than she had originally thought it was.  

Blinking, Bil falls onto the grass. It’s softer than she thought it would be, crushes easily and is pulled up without much difficulty. Greener, too, all the colors around her more vivid. The only similar part is the sky and she stares up at it. There’s an hour or two until sunset going by position on the horizon and these are colors she knows intimately, colors that are dear to her heart.  

Stretching her arms above her head, her fingers don’t even brush the stonework of the Tower. She sits up again, gazing into the forest. It is both frightening and exhilarating, being out here, seeing trees up close. Bil stands again and smiles at grass between her toes, picks up the satchel again and walks to the edge of the forest. Bark is rough under her fingers and it’s a textural experience she’s never had before, and her fingers eagerly explore the brand new surface.  

Bil feels a light breeze ruffle along her neck making her shiver and cling to the tree. That’s even newer and something that will take longer for her to become accustomed to. Her head feels so much lighter and she can feel her movements start to loosen up when she starts walking north into the forest.  

Adventures were stories she would read about and dream about, but had never applied them to herself. She read about pirates sailing seas, finding treasure, stories about worlds without magic and jousting, knights, heavy armor, trekking across plains for a great, virtuous quest. This is not quite a quest, not quite something as grave, beautiful as all those adventures Bil has read about, but somehow it _is_. This is beautiful, splendid, and the bracken under her feet might hurt at times, twigs snapping against her soles, but the pain is for the gain of her freedom.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I've been avoiding doing my schoolwork lately to write this fic instead, so I probably won't be update until the weekend, sorry :'c this has just absorbed too much of my attention and I have a lot of work to do with the end of the semester coming up.
> 
> and yeah, this chapter is shorter, but it's important because Bil is finally free! and look forward to the next chapter where we'll be meeting some of the other characters~
> 
> EDIT: look at the lovely [fanart](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1702442) made for this chapter by stormaggedon_darklordofall!!!!


	5. Chapter 5

When Bil realizes she’s lost, she’s not sure if she’s lost because she doesn’t know where she is or because she is no longer in her Tower. The thought sits heavily on her, preys on her mind as she struggles over roots, realizing now just how useful shoes could be. They had been an almost joke in her mind before; she had never touched ground before and hadn’t known how rough it could be, how there are sticks that tear at skin, poke, prod and inflict pain.  

Before this day, Bil had never experienced physical pain. Before this day, Bil had never known just how easy her life had been. Mother had coddled her, provided more than necessities and she had never even realized. She was living the easiest life possible. As Bil walks through the dark forest, branches crossing above her, leaves trailing along her arms, she wonders if this was the right choice.  

It’s a thought that has crossed her mind more than once the past few hours, the sun setting an hour ago and Bil knowing because of her internal clock more than anything. It’s a pervasive thought that she can’t eradicate; she tries and tries again to tell herself that she deserves to leave the Tower, make her own choices and live her own life, but something nags her and tells her that she should have accepted her easy life. What makes her think that she could live elsewhere, in a town with people, noise and everything she doesn’t know?  

That thought is scary. Now that she’s free, Bil for once thinks about her future. Her plan had never accounted for the possibilities of post-escape and now she is faced with the sting lack of foresight delivers. She keeps on telling herself she really should have thought this through, but it is too late to turn back. The Tower is behind her, with Mother and her long hair that she didn’t think she would miss.  

Because she does. She misses her hair, the warmth of it on her neck, twining it around her wrists, the slight pull as she moved around. Now it is gone, forever, and though Bil’s hair will continue to grow without a problem, it will never be the same. She will be forty by the time her hair reaches the length it was, and that will be too late. All that time spent braiding parts of it, using it as a means of transportation with Fili and Kili, the compliments that had warmed her cheeks and heart: all are left behind.  

Her shorn hair reminds her to continue on, because even if she knew how to return to the Tower and Mother and did so, there would be no forgiveness. Mother might have never spelled her rules out, but Bil had the three cardinal rules. She had spoken with people other than Mother, she had cut off all her hair and used magic to attach it to the Tower. There are marks of her betrayals in her escape and Mother will not forgive her, would not let her return no matter how she begged. Maybe the Tower will remain vacant until the end of time, now, without Bil or Mother occupying it’s limited space.  

Now and then Bil can see flashes of night sky above. Stars are dimmer in the forest and Bil contemplates climbing a tree, but the sag of her trousers and the pain she continuously feels in her feet prevents her. It would be nice, to climb the tree, a new experience, but besides the handicap of her feet, Bil cannot stomach heights anymore. She can still recall, with unsurprising clarity, the feel of her cut-off hair and the sense that if she fell, she would die. The texture of hair threaded through her fists is something she will never forget.  

A light breeze flutters by her, prickling the nape of her neck and Bil shudders. She is tired, but stopping is a frightening thought. What will she do? Yet another thing she hadn’t the foresight for. She has nothing to sleep with other than the clothes she’s wearing, and they are poor replacements for a bed.  

But after a few more minutes of walking aimlessly, not knowing if she is even still going north, Bil stops. Her feet are so very sore, but when she stops and sits by a random tree they ache even more. She has nothing for them, nothing to salve the pain and it is a sharp reminder of the earliest memory she has of Mother leaving her. There are likely new scars on the soles of her feet, not from a vase this time, but from nature.  

Curling into a ball a moment later, satchel clutched protectively to her body, tremors start running through her body. They start small, slight tremblings in her hands, but spread to her whole body until she’s convulsing with wracking sobs. This wasn’t what she had expected freedom to be like and with a sharp cry, she remembers that she had left Thorin’s letters behind. It stabs her heart and twists; they were a memento that she had definitely wanted to keep and yet she had forgotten all about them.  

Surely Mother will find them. And what would Mother do with them? Her sobs quiet down, though they do not lessen in intensity, and slowly they die out. Bil has never been more exhausted in her life and the thought of Thorin, or Fili and Kili actually, getting caught by Mother terrifies her. She never thought she would ever want to protect someone, but this is definitely a need to protect. She wants to protect the three of them, and the letters from Thorin are part of it. The Tower is far behind her and, as she falls asleep, Bil tells herself that there is nothing she can do.

 

 

When she wakes up, sunlight is filtering through leaves. The forest is beautiful again in daylight, the sunlight turning emerald, and the brown bark of trees is richer and friendly. Bil at first does not move and remains sitting on the ground, looking around in wonder. This is what the forest looks like during the daylight, she thinks, and it is more beautiful than I had realized. When she tries to stand, pain stabs through her feet and Bil risks a look at her feet.  

There are numerous scratches, some of them bright red, and the bottom of the trousers she had created so quickly are already starting to show tears. There are bruises along her ankles, and Bil feels scratches on her arms. The scratches hurt and the thought of walking all day on such damaged feet is painful, but Bil makes herself stand again and start walking. It is easier to avoid branches that would hurt dearly when light. She grabs a bite to eat from her bag as she moves, using the sun to help her determine north.  

This is a pattern of not hours but days. Her hair grows quickly and when she runs a hand through, the ends are no longer rough but smooth. Her feet still hurt, but callouses have started to form and the pain is no longer as intense as it once was. Her food dwindles and although she tries to use common sense and portion it out so that it would last for longer, her grumbling stomach puts an unfortunate end to common sense.  

She is out of food and stumbling without a thought as to location when she comes upon the road. Rather, Bil thinks it’s a road, because there is a cleared out area heading in either direction and the ground is smoothed over more than anywhere else she had seen in the forest. Bil steps out of the trees hesitantly, in amazement at the clearest view of the sky she’s had since the Tower.  

There’s a jingle coming from the right side of the road and, startled as well as scared, Bil darts back into the trees, watching a group of people pass by with what could be a cart, if she knew for certain what a cart looked like, and animals of some sort, four legs and taller than Bil by far. They pass by without spotting her, noisy, boisterous and soon out of sight. Leaving the protection of the trees, Bil gazes after them and looks up towards the sky again. Which way is Dale?  

The group came from the right, Bil theorizes, so surely they had to have come from a settlement of some sort. Maybe she can receive directions there as well as more food. More food would be excellent, Bil thinks as her belly growls loudly, fisting her shirt tightly. The fabric bunches around her hand but the fabric is still loose around her body, ruffling slightly in the wind as she starts walking.  

It takes time before she reaches the edge of the forest, and Bil doesn’t know what exactly she’s seeing when she does leave. Her toes curl on the beaten path as she stares at the river before her. It’s wide, a bigger body of water than anything Bil has seen before. She approaches it cautiously and sticks a foot in. It’s not going terribly fast, though Bil doesn’t know what fast would be as all the streams she passed had been a small fraction the size of this great river before her.  

Both feet go in after a moment’s thought and the feel of water running over her feet, cold but not biting, is glorious. On the other side of the river are rolling plains and Bil stares greedily over. There are no trees over there, just rolling hills that are green and speckled with rock formations that Bil aches so bad to feel, touch, climb all over. She has never seen such sights before, but she can’t cross the river between her and the tease laid out before her.  

Bil forces herself to look away and around, finally noticing that the path had not simply stopped when exiting the forest, but continues northwards. Carefully leaving the river, air chilly to her wet skin, Bil renews her walk. She’s not sure if this is the path to Dale, but it’s a path to somewhere.

 

 

The city that Bil first spots makes her stop and sit down for a while. It is larger than anything she had ever seen, sprawling, tall buildings and so much more color. Sun shines on the buildings, illuminating them, flags waving in a breeze Bil can’t feel. There are no outer, containing walls, and the town just seems to peter off into nonexistence, or a lesser existence, into fields that are lined with plants Bil does not know. Rising in the distance just beyond Dale is a single, lonely mountain. It is sharp peaked, capped with snow, and Bil’s eyes cannot detect any vegetation growing upon its surface. The rock it is made of make it appear completely and entirely grey.  

The grumbling of her stomach is what motivates her to move again, to get over her shock and surprise, over the bitter stab of how little she knows. She wonders if this is Dale as she continues on, moving past untouched ground into what she now assumes is fields. It quite possibly could be Dale, but she has little idea as to what the tall mountain beyond could be.  

With her destination in front of her, Bil unconsciously quickens her pace. She soon realizes that she is near skipping down the road and forces herself to slow down, but it is a hard won battle. She is so hungry, tired and in need of a wash. She is sure she looks like a wild creature, sure that she is covered in mud and dirt, that, despite being invisible to her eyes, others would see a trail of footprints made of blood from her injured feet. Every time she looks back there is no such thing, but the thought haunts her mind as she finally reaches the edge of the town.  

The buildings here are more low-lying than the ones further into the town and not as tall as Bil’s Tower, though they are far taller than her. The material is different too, not the blue and grey flagstones she’s familiar with, but a warmer colored stone. Some buildings are made of wood and it astonishes her that it is possible to make such large structures with wood. The only wooden furniture Bil had seen before was her bookcase and that seems pitifully small now.  

Everything she has known seems pitifully small now, including herself. People are walking by her, heading out towards the fields and she feels smaller, inadequate, dwindling in presence amongst all these other people. She is smaller than most of them, by several inches at the least. The clothes she had so hastily made seem inappropriate amongst those who had their clothes properly made; the men have trousers that aren’t sliding past their butts and their shirts are not like loose sacks on their bodies. The women make her feel worse, because they do wear skirts and dresses, of various colors, different styles, but all better than anything she has worn before.  

Bil blinks away tears she doesn’t want to admit to and starts walking again. There are more people around her and they all frighten her; there are loud voices, some in words she can’t understand, and all around people bustle by her, knocking into her and it’s difficult for her to keep her balance. She’s starving, too, and she is eventually knocked to the cobbled ground.  

Her knees smart on the impact, though her makeshift trousers prevent any scratches. The heels of her hands receive scrapes, though she’s glad that there’s no blood. Moving to kneel on the ground, Bil gazes around desperately. Some people glance at her, though there are many who don’t. A couple stops and the man offers her a hand, which she gladly takes with a warm smile that fades when he asks a question.  

“Where are your parents?”  

“I am twenty,” she says, twisting her hand out of his grasp. His red hair is almost a shock to her eyes, but she refuses to let her eyes linger there. “I am no child.”  

He looks troubled and exchanges glances with the woman next to him. “Will you be okay?”  

Bil feels sore all over, her feet, legs, arms, where her hands had collided with the cobbled pathway, so no. She does not feel okay, she’s never felt so not-okay in her life, but she doesn’t want to be tethered to another person quite yet. “I will be. Thank you.”  

He reaches to clasp a hand on her shoulder. “Tell me your name and I will put you in the register at every guard post to help you.”  

She shrugs away from the hand on her shoulder. It feels oppressive; heavy and hot, an unwanted touch. “My name is Bil.”  

His eyes are sharp as they survey her. “My name is Gloin. If you ever have need of help, lad, ask for me at the guard posts.”  

Her eyebrows draw together as he walks away. Lad? Glancing down at herself, she realizes that her breasts are nearly unnoticeable and her cheeks flush. She looks like a boy, and a young one at that if Gloin had thought her yet a child. But it is time to pull herself together; she has a backup plan of searching for his help, if need be, but she wants to take care of herself. Dependent for so long, it is exhilarating and nerve-wracking to be independent and Bil wants to test the waters a little longer.

 

 

It is her grumbling belly that has gone without proper substance for too long that prompts her into action. Bil continues walking through the roads of the town, still unsure if this is Dale or not, when she comes upon the markets. The sun indicates late afternoon and she walks around in more wonder than fear here, looking at all the bright, colorful trinkets spread everywhere, fabrics that glisten even without sunlight and weapons that intrigue her. It is the food, however, that piques most of her interest.  

The smells are divine and she’s not even sure what it is she is smelling. Bil follows her nose, leading to a stall with some sort of doughy product shaped like triangles spread across the table top.  

“Interested in these, lad?” The stall keeper asks, his hands rubbing together as he smiles at her. He looks kindly, with ruddy cheeks and a toothy smile.  

“I suppose,” she quibbles, mouth watering at the heavenly scent wafting off them. “But what are they?”  

“Apple turnovers,” he says, puzzled. “Fresh from the oven. Best on a nice afternoon like this, if you ask me.”  

“Apple turnover?” She echoes. “What’s a turnover?”  

He stares at her blankly and she impulsively reaches over and grabs one, taking a bite into it. It’s warm, the apple taste coming through with plenty of spices that Bil cannot identify. The doughy part is flaky on the top, but the inner layers are slightly chewy and provide a complementary texture to the apple.  

“Oh my,” she murmurs, holding a hand to her mouth as she swallows. “That was the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten.”  

The stall keeper looks nonplussed, but soon has a hand extended in front of him, fingers wiggling at her. “A turnover’s three copper pieces, lad, pay up.”  

“Copper pieces? What are copper pieces?”  

He squints at her, hand going to a pouch hanging from his waist. He pulls out a few circular objects and shows them to her. “These are copper pieces. Do you not have any?”  

“What do they do? Are they currency of a sorts?” She stares avidly at them, reading the name _Thrain_ written just underneath _Durin_. “And who’s Thrain?”  

“You have got to be kidding me,” the stall keeper says and she’s surprised at the tone of disbelief.  

“I assure you, I am not,” she replies, taking another bite of the turnover and then quickly finishing it. She’s sorry that she ate it so quickly, but she was so hungry that she wouldn’t have been able to savor the taste properly. She still is hungry, actually, and she contemplates taking another turnover.

“You’re not from around here, are you?”  

Bil is direly thirsty now, the sweetness of the turnover making the thirst unignorable. “I suppose not. I’m not sure exactly where I came from, though I know I come from the south of the Greenwood Forest.”

He makes a choked sort of noise that has Bil reaching a hand towards him. “Are you—”  

The stall keeper grabs her wrist and wrenches her across the table. “I don’t care where you came from,” he snarls. She can’t help but notice his uneven teeth, one of his canines longer than the rest and yellow smudges on each of his incisors. “I will have you pay.”  

“Pay?” She echoes quietly, wincing at the pain that’s starting to emanate from her wrist. It’s compounded onto everything from the past few days and the heel of her hand smarts anew at this rough treatment.  

“Yes, have you no concept of bartering? You took a turnover, so now you’ve got to pay for it.”  

“But— I don’t have any of those copper pieces, I don’t know what they are even!” She tries to wrest her wrist free, but his grip is too tight. “Let me go! I’ll make it up another way.”  

“In what way?” He growls. Bil’s not sure what has made him so angry, but she will admit that his sudden anger scares her.  

“I-I can—” She casts about for something, and the magic book sitting in her satchel comes to mind. “I can do—”  

“I will pay.” Someone’s hand lands on her shoulder and she thinks it might be Gloin, would be glad of his help now, but it is another stranger she shies away from. “Three coppers, is it? Here’s your money.” He tosses the money onto the table and the stall keeper lets go of her wrist, seemingly reluctantly, and collects the money.  

“Have a good day, sir.” His tone is bitter and Bil stares up at the man who had just helped her.

He’s tall, with russet hair mohawked in three directions that mirrors his beard. His face is a bit weathered, fine wrinkles have formed at the corners of his eyes and around his mouth, but his eyes are bright in his swarthy, tanned skin.  

“Thank you,” she says as the man leads her away and then frowns. “But what exactly happened?”  

“You’re from the forest, and most people around here don’t care much for the folk from the forest.”  

“What does that mean?” She asks incredulously. “Are we not all humans?”  

He surveys her, going from her shorn hair, tracing the features of her face and then the shapeless clothing. She blushes hotly. “Aye, I suppose we are. My name’s Nori; might I have yours?”  

“Bil,” she offers, cautiously. “My name is Bil.” She had offered the name to Gloin earlier, as no other name had appealed to her. Bilba is the name from Mother and Blueberry is silly with how dissimilar to her real name it is. They hadn’t left her with many options, and she had spur of the moment decided on a shortening of Bilba.

“Bil, hm?” She squirms, still blushing, under his scrutiny. “And are you a lad or a lass?”  

She tosses her head, though there is no hair to accentuate the movement. “What say you, what do you think? Am I lad— or lass?”  

Nori grins then, the smile lighting his face up. “I’m not sure I care, though there are many who would. Now, you look like you have traveled a fair bit. Let’s get you some better clothes than those awful things you have on now and some food in your stomach.” As he speaks, he moves past her, a heavy hand tapping her on the shoulder in an absent way that nearly sends her sprawling. He is so much taller than her, and probably much heavier to boot, that Bil has herself forgive him.  

“And where,” she asks, trotting to keep up with him, doing her best to stoically ignore the pain in her feet and all over. “Are we going?”  

He grins sideways at her. “To my place. I share it with my two brothers, Dori and Ori. Good lads, them, though Dori doesn’t necessarily approve of my actions.”  

“Your... actions?” She repeats, frowning. “Like saving strangers in the street?”  

He laughs now, pausing for a moment to clasp her warmly on the shoulder. “No, not quite that. I’ll see if I can get you into the business, though, if my two brothers can’t sink their hooks in you first.”  

“What is it you do, Mister Nori? I don’t understand.”  

“Let’s just say that I’m a purveyor of goods.” He winks at her for a reason she doesn’t even try to understand and continues to lead her deeper into the town.  

After a few minutes have passed, the buildings growing taller around them, Bil cannot hold her curiosity back anymore. “Are we in Dale?”  

“You came here without knowing?” Nori chuckles. “But aye, we are. This is Dale. A fine city, I suppose, though I’ve heard that the city underneath the mountain is the finest city you can find.”  

“A city, under a mountain?” Bil gasps. “How is that possible? I’m afraid I do not understand.”  

“It’s a fair miraculous thing, if you ask me, though those from the city believe that it was only natural that they would carve out houses from solid rock.” He snorts and rolls his eyes. “What a load of crap.”

“They carved houses from solid rock?” She squeaks. “How do you do such things?” Nori stops suddenly and Bil goes a few steps before stopping, gazing back uncertainly. He’s eyeing her again, causing her to feel uncomfortable yet again and to shift from smarting foot to smarting foot. “What is it, Mister Nori?”  

“You truly know nothing, do you? You don’t know about coppers, you don’t know about Erebor, that this was Dale and carving into stone seems an impossible feat to you.”  

She winces. “Yes, that is true. I have lived... an isolated life, you could say.” Her stomach complains, growling and giving discomfort. The turnover had only exacerbated her hunger.  

“We will have a long talk about your life and where you come from when we get to my house,” Nori says. “And that, Bil, is a promise. We’ll also sort out your gender, as I’m not particularly inclined to strip you in public to discover the truth.”  

“If you truly cared to know, I would tell you,” Bil protests hotly. “Might I point out that you were the one to offer me food and better clothes without asking anything of me.”  

“Aye, but I expected the details of our arrangement to come to light under clearer circumstances. You are currently three coppers in my debt, and for that you have a certain obligation towards me.”  

“I did not ask you to pay for the turnover,” she disagrees. “Besides, that sounds an awful lot like you just purchased me.”  

A light glints in his eyes as he starts moving again, strides too long for Bil to keep up with at a reasonable walking pace. “In a sense, I have.”  

Bil wants to continue arguing, but the hunger of her stomach is too sharp to ignore this offer of help. It might come with strings, but it is better than anything else she has. Maybe they can help her learn how to live in a place like Dale and, Bil decides as she hurries to keep up with Nori, he’s not exactly a bad sort. He helped her, and maybe his brothers will have a similar kindness in their hearts.  


	6. Chapter 6

Nori’s house is tall, made of sandy brick, the mortar grey and curious to the touch, and Bil nervously follows him inside. It’s an awfully big house for just three people, but Bil won’t judge until she sees the inside. He leads her up a staircase and three flights upwards, her aching legs somehow able to handle more use than before. When they get to the fourth flight, however, she begs for a rest.  

“I’ve been walking for a while now, Mister Nori,” she pants, hands trembling on the railing. “And by a while I mean the sum of some days. I’m not used to the exertion.”  

He eyes her for a moment; she’s sure his quick eyes are taking in her exhausted state and the tremors she can’t keep away. “Fine, then, Bil, I’ll carry you the rest of the way.”  

“What?” Bil asks, startled, starting to edge away. “You’ll _carry_ me? I think not.”  

But Nori has already picked her up, a hand on the back of her thighs as she’s balanced on his shoulder. “Too late, Bil, I’ve already got you.”  

“Put me down,” she hisses at him, though she doesn’t have the energy to actively fight as he starts up the stairs. She’s secretly grateful that he’s doing this, though she would never admit it, because there was no way she would have been able to take another staircase on her own.  

When Nori does put her down, Bil nearly loses her footing, stumbling forward into him. He puts a hand on her shoulder as he opens the door she’s just noticing and gently pushes her in.  

“Dori, Ori,” he calls and Bil winces at how close that was to her ears. “I brought a guest.”  

“A guest?” Someone calls from within and Bil spins around, the movement making her head dizzy. Where had the voice come from? “Who could it be?”  

“It’s name is Bil and I’m still not sure if it’s a lad or a lass, but the kid definitely needs taking care of.”  

Bil tries to draw herself to her full height, which is not very much, but the rough hand on her head stops her. “I’m not a kid,” she mumbles weakly. When a man comes from around a corner, she jumps. He has a kindly smile, though he isn’t nearly as tall as Nori.  

“Is this the person then? What’s the name, little one?” He approaches her and bends down a little.

She wrinkles her nose, drawing back a little. “I’ll have you know I’m twenty. I’m not a little child, thank you very much.”  

“Bil. The name’s Bil,” Nori chuckles and then ushers her further inside and Bil is unable to hold back her curiosity.  

“What is this place? Do you own the entire building?”  

The other man looks bemused, but Nori continues chuckling as he ushers her in. “Not quite, Bil. We live in an apartment in an apartment building.”  

Her eyes widen as he pushes her through a doorway. “And these are rooms! I’ve only ever read about them.”  

This sets him laughing even harder and he has to pause. The other man takes her hand cautiously. “Bil, miss, um, lad, you don’t know what rooms are?”  

She draws her hand away, frowning at him and gazes around the room. “No windows either. How do you see outside?”  

“Well,” the man continues, his voice nervous. “We don’t have windows in the inside rooms, but the outside rooms have some nice ones overlooking the back.”  

“I see.” Her stomach growls, and she holds a hand over it, flushing from embarrassment.  

The man, however, lights up. “Are you hungry? Here, let me get you something.” He bustles away and Bil stares after him.  

“Who was that?” She asks Nori, who has stopped laughing just to grin widely. “One of your brothers?”  

“Aye, that was Ori, the youngest of us three.”  

“Ori,” she echoes, nodding. “The youngest.”  

“Quite a parrot, aren’t you.”  

She frowns, sweeping a gaze over the room again. It’s simple, with a table and some chairs. Nothing hangs on the walls. “You’re quite rude.”  

Ori returns, holding a plate heaped with food and Bil nearly faints as she smells it and, when Ori places it on the table, attacks the food. It’s simple fare, some plain chicken with fruit she doesn’t know.

“What are these?” She asks, holding some up in wonder, mouth half full with chicken. “How do they become such a nice green? Are those— are those black bits seeds?”  

“It's kiwifruit, miss, er, mister, and yes. They're seeds, but quite edible,” Ori assures.  

“Kiwifruit,” she echoes, stuffing a slice into her mouth.  

“You’re not supposed to eat the skin,” Nori tells her, slapping a hand on her back and causing her to choke.  

“Too late,” she replies weakly, smiling at him. The food is already settling in her stomach, and she honestly can’t eat the entire plate and it looks as though she hardly made a dent in it. Bil is fuller than she ever recalls being before, though she eyes the strawberries in anticipation. She’ll let her stomach digest a bit more before eating more.  

“Where’s Dori?”  

“He’s out.”  

Nori grunts in response.  

“I don’t know what he’s doing, Nori, I was busy.”  

“With your books and such?”  

“Yes,” Ori snaps back, eyebrows furrowing.  

“You have books?” Bil asks, eyes lighting up. “I happen to have a few, if you’d like to take a look.”  

The two brothers share a look. “You know how to read?” Nori asks.  

“I was forced to learn when little, but—”  

“You’re telling me,” Nori interrupts, leaning far too close towards her. “You know how to read.”  

“Quite well,” she snaps at him, glaring.  

“And you don’t know about apartments, or money?”  

Bil opens her mouth to respond, but then closes it. “It’s different seeing it,” she mumbles. “I... I’ve lived a very isolated life.”  

Nori gazes at her speculatively before taking the plate up and carrying it away.  

“What sort of books did you read, Bil?”  

“Whatever was brought to me,” she replies, rather subdued. “I had limited materials, but I read novels, history books and a couple of political science. Nothing too fancy.”  

“Political science,” Ori mumbles. “Like about kings and such?”  

“And democracies, the like,” she offers, rubbing her head. “It was interesting stuff, though I mainly read it from sheer boredom.”  

“It sounds fascinating,” Ori demurs. “Really fascinating.”  

She stares at him, finally taking in the family resemblance. The two brothers have similar face shapes round with swarthy skin and the same eye color. “If you say so.” Bil hears the door open and turns towards it and watches as what must be the last brother enter— Dori, if she recalls correctly.  

“Ori,” he calls. “Is Nori back yet?”  

Nori steps into the room from behind Bil and grins down at her. “Of course I am, I’m not entirely a lazy brute.”  

She squeaks again when Dori enters the room. His face is the roundest, with hair that is mostly grey with streaks of russet similar to both Nori and Ori’s. His eyes sweep the room, having heard her, and he doesn’t look pleased.  

“What’s a lass doing here?”  

“Ah, so she is a lass,” Nori winks at Bil.  

“I never said I wasn’t.”  

“And you never said you were.”  

She grumbles a bit, sinking further into her seat as the last brother stares at her.  

“She’s clearly a lass,” he growls. “Now what is she doing here?”  

“Now, brother, I thought you always told me to do something productive with my life so I’ve decided to save kids on the streets.”  

“I’m not a kid,” Bil cries indignantly. “And I’d prefer it if everyone were to stop assuming I was some child. I am a full twenty years, as of a few days ago.” She thinks it was a few days ago.  

“Twenty is a full adult and the same age as me,” Ori pipes in, though he shies a bit under Nori’s sudden gaze.  

“See,” she crows. “I am not a child.”  

“Twenty is yet young, lass,” Dori grumbles as he sits across from her. “Now tell me, how did you get here?”  

She squirms under his gaze, so much like Nori’s. “Starting from when?”  

Dori brings both hands to his head. “How long is the tale?”  

“It can either start with me reaching Dale or, well,” Bil starts and then just rushes everything out in one go. “I lived in a Tower with Mother and I escaped from I don’t know where, just somewhere in the Greenwood Forest and then I came here and I was so hungry, I don’t really understand money you see, and then Nori saved me and he—”  

Dori’s hand is in the air, and Nori’s hand is heavy on her shoulder.  

“He was very kind,” she finishes quietly.  

“That’s some tale,” Ori murmurs. “It sounds adventuresome.”  

“I never really wanted an adventure,” Bil mumbled. “I just wanted a chance.”  

“What’s your name, lass?” Dori asks, voice quiet. Bil swallows before answering.  

“Bilba’s my full name, but please, call me Bil.”  

“Bil, then. If you can, could you tell me the full story?” Her smiles wavers the slightest, but the encouragement in his gaze and in his tone is what has her opening her mouth again.  
  
  


Bil nearly tells them everything. She doesn’t tell them about the scar on her foot from when she was a little girl, or the fire in Mother’s eyes, and doesn’t tell them about Thorin or his nephews. She glosses over them, as little, inconsequential details, partially because she’s scared. Bil trusts the three brothers, why not, after all, but Thorin and Fili and Kili are _hers_ , they are hers to keep in her heart as a warm memory. She does tell them about magic, though, cutting off her hair and attaching it to her railing and the first mention of magic elicits a quiet gasp from Dori and a shared glance between the three. Sometime during the telling, Nori sits down next to her and Ori pauses her to fetch her a cup of hot liquid that he calls tea. It warms her hands and it goes nicely down her throat, a brown liquid she doesn’t know.  

When done, Ori takes a look at her feet and bandages them up neatly before showing her to a square room with a window, a simple cot, a wooden chair, and a dresser with a pot and flowers on top. The flowers are white and they have long green stems and Bil wants to pick it up, feel the green between fingers, but they are not her flowers. She’s never seen the like, though, and the urge to rub petals is stronger. Ori tells her to take a rest for now, that with a full belly and a roof overhead, sleep should come easily.  

The ‘rest for now’ part sticks in her mind,fear of being kicked out in the morning rising. But the gentle hands from earlier stick in her mind along with the warm comfort of this tea in her stomach and, swallowing, she sinks gratefully into the sheets. She is so tired that she does not bother to go under them, as is proper, but simply falls asleep on top of them, legs curling for comfort.  

When Bil wakes up, there are clothes hung over the chair and sunlight is streaming through the window. At first Bil doesn’t recognize where she is, so used to green forestry, and falls out of the cot. She leaves the sheets a rumpled mess and when Bil tries to stand, she staggers forward because of the bandages on her feet and the sharp pain. Biting her lip, she hobbles to the clothes and quickly drags off the too-big shirt and the trousers that never sat properly anyways. The shirt she drags on smells faintly of sweat, but is clean, and hangs low on her thighs, almost to her knees. It’s soft on her skin, though the cloth that Mother had given her and the fine blue shade is softer. Bil thinks half of that is because of her faulty memories.The trousers left behind are far too large, larger than the ones she had haphazardly made and she holds them up when she limps through the door.  

“Hello?” She calls, nervously, going to the room where she had told her tale the night before. “Nori? Are you there?”  

“Awake then, are you, lass?”  

The voice comes from behind her and she shrieks, twirling and then falling over. The trousers slip down her legs, the waist around the same place as the hem of the shirt, and she sees Dori and Nori.  

“Oh dear,” Dori says and extends a hand to her. “You alright there, Bil? Don’t scare her so, Nori.”  

For a few long moments Bil stares at the hand. “Do I take it?”  

Nori laughs and Dori frowns as he fully bends over her and picks her up from under her arms, righting her. “Yes, you were supposed to.”  

“Sorry,” she offers, wincing. “I—”  

“It’s all good, lass, don’t you worry a whit. But those trousers look more than a little large for you.”  

Glancing down, Bil realizes that she forgot to keep them around her waist. “Yes, they are, aren’t they? I’m not quite sure how to keep them up and was hoping to ask for help.”  

“Typically,” Dori grumbles, bending down and pulling them up with sharp, slightly jerky movements. “A man has a belt he wears and that keeps them in place.  

“A belt? What’s a belt?”  

Nori rubs her head, and then knocks her sharply with his knuckles. “You have a lot to learn.”  

“These have a drawstring,” Dori tells her, and Bil watches curiously as he pulls some sort of string that comes out in the front of the trousers. “If you pull on it, it’ll tighten, like so.” As he pulls, she feels the fabric slither tighter around her waist and she can’t help the squirm.  

“That’s odd,” she murmurs when Dori has it snug around her and knots it. “And entirely amazing. You said it is called a drawstring?”  

Dori smiles at her, straightening. “It’s a string that’s sewn through a loop in the pants, so that you can tighten it and knot it at need. It fits all sizes, so we thought that we should give you a pair because nothing else would fit you.”  

“But what’s a belt?” She asks, following them as they move through the apartment, stepping as lightly as possible with her bandaged, torn feet. “What does it do?”  

“Similar concept to a drawstring, lass,” Nori tells her. “But tends to be of a different material. Sometimes they serve two functions, as practical and decorative.”  

“Decorative?” She frowns. “How would it be decorative?”  

“They can get really elaborate, but I’ll show you some later. How does that sound?”  

She nods happily, then taking in the room they had entered. “Oh, wow, is this what a kitchen is? It’s astounding!” Ori is standing at a table, knife in hand, food laid out in front of him, and he looks up when he hears Bil’s exclamation.  

“It’s an ordinary kitchen, but I suppose it’d be extraordinary to you.”  

“This, ordinary? I can’t believe it. I’ve never even—” Bil doesn’t have the words and instead gestures around expansively. The walls are full of high cupboards that she is already itching to explore, touch everything that is held within, a counter jutting from the same wall with a sink and more cupboards underneath , the table pressed under the window and the fireplace with a pot hanging low. A flimsy curtain covers an entry opposite the fireplace.  “I’ve never seen anything like this in my life.”  

“If this surprises you, everything else will astound you.”  

“What else is there?” Bil asks, eagerly turning towards Nori. “Are there dragons, unicorns, the like? Are there huge, huge castles with drawbridges? I’ve heard about mountains and springs, and fireworks! Are they amazing too?”  

Nori gazes at her, almost indulgently. “Aye, fireworks are pretty impressive. I’ll be showing you around Dale later, but first we’ll need to have a bit of a chat.”  

“Bit of a chat?”  

“You’re going to have to stop that repeating habit of yours, lass. It’s a bad sort of habit.”  
  
  


The chat occurs when they are sitting at the table from last night, their dining table as it is. Ori sits next to her and tells her about the food they’re eating: porridge with a side of eggs mixed with pieces of bell pepper. Bil’s not sure what she thinks about the taste, unfamiliar as it is, but eats it dutifully. She’s had worse to eat, honestly, and the fact that the food is fresh and hot is an added bonus that she knows will take time to get used to.  

Meanwhile, the three brothers are filling her in on the world.  

“Magic, you see, is a special sort of skill. Not many can do it, and little kids usually show an inclination when young and are taken to the Academy in Erebor,” Dori says and Bil recalls the tall, lonely mountain when approaching Dale.  

“It’s most often hereditary, so you probably get it from that Mother of yours,” Nori adds with a wink.  

“They are typically released around age eighteen or so and they are to ply their trade around, as showmen or however they’re needed. Pricey, they are.”  

“They cost money?” Bil asks, eyes wide. “But why? They can do it for free, it takes hardly anything to do.”  

Dori smiles, as though she were a little child. Bil knows she doesn’t like that smile already. “That might be so, Bil, but that doesn’t prevent them from wanting coin. Magicians tend to be the top tier of class around here.”  

“When you say class,” Bil says slowly. “You mean like a hierarchy, a system of delineating people economically?”  

Nori nods. “That’s right. You’re pretty clever for being an airhead.”  

“I’m not an airhead,” she snaps. “But for these classes, magicians are at the top?”  

Ori shakes his head. “No, royalty and aristocracy are at the top. As it happens, though, more often than not they’re one and the same, magicians and aristocracy.”  

Bil blinks.  

“After magicians you get ordinary folk like us, though we have own own hierarchy for sure, and then the beggars and the like.”  

“Which leads us,” Dori says, elbows landing on the table and ignoring a look and poke from Ori. “To the problem you deliver us.”  

“I’m a problem?”  

“Aye, a big one.”  

“You’re going to give me to this Academy?” Bil knows next to nothing about it, what they do there, whether or not it’d be beneficial for her, but she doesn’t want to go. She likes these three brothers, Nori’s twinkling eyes, Ori’s sweetness and Dori’s compassion. The idea of leaving the first friends she has made since she left the Tower breaks her heart.  

“No, we’re not,” Nori says immediately. “But we’re going to have to ask you to dress like a boy.”  

“Like a boy? Only boys wear trousers?” She picks at the tightened waist with the drawstring. “But these clothes are much easier than dresses. I should know, all I’ve worn are dresses. If I’d worn a dress through the forest, it probably would have taken me a few more days to get through.”  

“It’s not because of the trousers that we’re asking you to cross-dress,” Dori says, tone tinged with regret. “But girls tend to have a bit more trouble getting by without harassment and we don’t want you to deal with that.”  

“Why are girls harassed? I don’t understand.”  

They share glances. “Well, Bil, lass, men tend to be stronger than women and there are some bad men out there,” Nori says. Bil can tell he’s picking his words carefully, though the words don’t make much sense to her so far. “These bad men would use their strength to take care of women.”  

“Like bandits?”  

Nori cocks his head with a small grin. “Kind of like bandits, except that bandits don’t thieve based on gender.”  

“I see.” A partial lie; she only somewhat understands. “And you know for sure that men are stronger?”  

“The point is,” Dori says, cutting Nori off before he even began. “That you will be safer if you look like a young lad.”  

She nods, a hand going to her hair. “I cut my hair like this because I thought it’d be easiest, but it probably makes me look more like a lad, right?”

“That’s right. Now,” Nori stands, stacking her bowl and plate with his. “I’m going to show you Dale.”  

Dori immediately protests. “Oh no you are _not_ , Nori, I know what you have planned and I will not allow you to use the poor lass.”  

“It’s not like I’ll be forcing her,” he says, devilish grin in place. “She’ll be choosing for herself.”  

“What’ll I be choosing?” She asks, half-standing as Nori goes to the kitchen. “What are you concerned about?”  

“Has he told you what he does for a living?”  

She nods, brow furrowed. “A purveyor of goods, if I recall correctly.”  

Dori laughs sharply and Nori enters the room again, hurrying Bil up, out of her chair and into the room where they had entered before.  

“A purveyor of goods,” Dori calls after them, soon at the entry with his arms crossed. “A stealer of goods is more like it.”  

“Steal? Mister Nori?” He shrugs under Bil’s gaze and soon has her whisked out the door despite the unsurety Bil now has on her face. “Are you a bandit, but in a city?”  

“Bandit’s similar to what I do,” he grins. “But not quite there. You can call me a thief, a burglar, the like.”  

“Oh. That’s right. I know what those are too,” Bil insists as they continue to clamber down the stairs. Nori is wearing shoes, something she is entirely lacking, but she’s not sure if she wants to stuff her poor feet into any sort of contraption anyways. They feel much better free, though in a bit of pain at the moment.  

“Sure you do. Now, Dale, what sort of things would you like to see first?”  

They pause at the threshold of the building and Bil is taken aback by all the people. There had been so many yesterday, but there are many, many more in the morning hours. “Who are all these people?” She whispers, edging a little closer to Nori. “And what are they doing?”  

“This is a normal amount of people about for a town the size of Dale; on weekends there are even more. You’ll learn to appreciate crowds if I have any say.”  

She frowns and hurries as fast as she can after Nori as he strides into the street. “Are you going to teach me to steal? Is that what Dori didn’t want you doing?”  

He shrugs, going the direction they came from yesterday. “Somewhat of the like. I’ll be teaching you mostly pickpocketing, being light-fingered and light-footed. It’s right useful, if you ask me.”  

“But Mister Nori,” she huffs. “I don’t want to steal! Morally, stealing is bad and I’d much prefer to be an upstanding citizen.”  

“Ha, upstanding is boring, Bil. Look at Dori and Ori; they’re good lads, I love my brothers to death, but terribly boring. Only good when full of ale.”  

“And ale is an alcoholic beverage, correct?”  

He laughs and pushes her on the shoulder, one that was a little gentler than the one he would give his brothers. “That’s right. You’ll fit in soon enough, mark my words.”  

She continues hurrying after him, wondering if she should ask him to slow down so she can keep up. His legs are, after all, much, much longer than hers and so such a pace is easy for him. His brothers, too, as all three of them are taller than her. Ori not as much as his brothers, but still quite a bit taller.  

Then they come to a stall that Bil recognizes. “That’s the man with the apple turnovers!” Her mouth waters in memory of the crisp, flaky outer layer and the warm, spiced apple inside. “What are we doing here?”  

Nori brings her closer to the other side of the road, almost down an alleyway and bends down. “You are going to steal a pastry from him, for payback.”  

“But he—”  

“Is a mean man, Bil, and this is revenge.”  

“It was only because I couldn’t—”  

“It was because you were from the forest. It had nothing to do with money, lass, but where you came from. Folk here tend to be prejudiced against the forest folk.”  

“You aren’t,” Bil argues, pouting. “Neither are Dori or Ori.”  

“That’s because you told us your story. You’re no more of the forest folk than anyone else in Dale.”  

“I don’t get it, though. Why would anyone hate people based on where they’re from?”  

Nori sighs heavily. “How about we have a long talk about this another day, huh? You’ve got a pastry to steal from a man who has a habit of swindling folk with over-priced turnovers.”  

“How much does a turnover typically cost?” She murmurs thoughtfully, watching as he helps serve a mother and two young children.  

“A copper to two coppers. Three is pushing it, though I’m surprised he didn’t try asking you for more.”  

“That’s not very nice of him.”  

“Aye, it’s not, so how about you steal one to make up for it?”  

Bil’s torn. She knows from all the books she’s read that stealing is bad, but isn’t that exactly what the stall keeper is doing? He’s stealing people’s money by overcharging them. The question is, which is worse, her stealing or his overcharging?  

“Fine, I’ll do it.”  

“That’s a good lass,” Nori cries, clasping both her shoulders with a wide grin. “Now, listen close. If you’re ever going to pickpocket or take from a stall, it’s best for the person to be distracted. Like right now, see how he’s talking to that lady?” She nods, watching him. He’s still serving the mother with two kids, though they seem to be leaving soon.  

“Good. Their focus is to be on someone _other_ than you and then you take what you’re looking for as quickly and unobtrusively as possible. The difficulty with this man is that he’ll likely recognize you, so you’ll have to be extra careful.”  

“What about a diversion?” She asks, looking at the boxes behind the stall keeper. “Can I cause a diversion to take his attention?”  

When Nori doesn’t answer for a few moments, she glances back at him. His smile is small, no less happy, and more sly. “Of course. Diversions are a great tactic, but difficult to cause.”  

“So I’m allowed?”

“Yes, but be careful.”  

She nods, hanging back as the mother pulls her children away. A couple soon stops by, most likely enticed by the same smells Bil had been drawn by. She quietly leaves the alleyway, a ruffle of hair the last indication of Nori, to up and across the pathway. Bil keeps her head low as she makes her way down the pathway, eyes on the box behind him. With a small snap and point, she whispers _lift_ and the box lifts the slightest bit.  

The box strains on her concentration; she can feel the weight of it on her mind and she struggles with pushing it enough to the side that it would distract him. When Bil thinks she has it just right, she brings it back down and then fists her hands in her shirt from nerves. Her head aches slightly; it had been a while since she had last tried any magic, much less anything more than a book.  

It tips over as Bil reaches the corner of the stall and he turns with a cry, hurrying to collect all of the items in the box. With an eye on the couple, who are busy talking to each other, she doesn’t bother looking at any of the turnovers before she has one carefully hidden in the folds of her too-long shirt and is back across the pathway.

Nori had gone further down the alleyway and beckons to her. She scurries over, the turnover almost too hot in her hands. “How’d I do?”  

“Excellently, though you’ll have to be careful with the magic bit.”  

She beams. “Thank you, Mister Nori.” Then, confidently, she offers the turnover to him. “This is for you, in payment of yesterday. I can’t quite afford to pay you back for everything, but this is the start.”  

“Lass, you don’t owe me anything. It’s the least I could do for what looked to be a little child being taken advantage of on the street. He was close to using you as slave labor.”  

Bil shrugs. “We each have our own motives, and I intend to pay you back as best I can. This is just the start.”  

They hold gazes for a long moment before Nori plucks the turnover from her hand. He tears it in two with a quick movement, placing one half back on her hand. “We’ll split it. You need a reward for a job well done after all.”

She nearly trips as she follows Nori through the rest of the alley, though part of her wonders what Mother or Thorin, Fili or Kili would think about this. Bil, previously of the Tower, now of Dale and thief. Then Bil finds that she doesn’t particularly care much what Mother would think, because she is to find her own life without her. Her only regret lies with Thorin and his nephews.  


	7. Chapter 7

It takes time, but Bil becomes familiar with Dale. At first Nori shows her the ropes, but every now and then he disappears for a stretch of a few days or more and Bil spends those days indoors with Dori, who tuts over her like a hen. Ori, she finds out, has an apprenticeship in the artisan district as an illustrator, though he admits to her that he would rather be writing the stories, but that his style was apparently not appreciated. Bil doesn’t understand this, but she doesn’t push it when he gives her a pained smile. It looks like an old, forgotten pain.  

The first few months Bil is too scared to go out and about Dale without someone accompanying her. She is still barefoot, too, though her feet have healed. Bil tried to wear them once, but they drove her crazy and her feet have grown much tougher since before and she is usually agile enough to avoid being stepped on. When she does go to Dale, many of the first times are with Nori who takes her around, points out nooks and crannies to hide in, and teaches her how to pickpocket. He tells her about the kinds of people who always have surplus on their bodies and would never notice the few coins slipped from them; it takes awhile for Bil to be able to do this on her own, and even longer before she can successfully pickpocket. Nori grins at her proudly when she shows it to him, and the pride in his gaze is more real than any pride Mother had shown in her embroidery, in the books she read, or anything else of the limited things Bil was allowed to do.  

Dori takes her to the markets one time when Nori is gone for a little more than a week and she asks him endless questions about what food is what, how those colors can be exist, how such cloth is made. He is tired when they go back to the apartment, a place Bil has somehow started calling home, gruff and ruffles her hair when he places the groceries in the kitchen.  

Sometimes she practices magic, on those days when Nori isn’t around, but she mostly just flips through the book. There are all sorts of different spells, like the heating spell, a light spell, all sorts of attaching spells and a spell that’ll make food taste better than before. She tries that one immediately, on a soup that Dori was making, and is most upset when it causes the soup to boil over. Dori had been upset too, though he had been kind enough not to yell at her. She tries it again, later, on some bread that had gone stale and it tasted marginally better. She decides that practice is what the spell needs, though she doesn’t actually do much of the practice bit. It’s a bit scary, knowing that she could be taken away from the three brothers that she has so quickly, so suddenly grown attached to.  

It is late autumn when Ori takes her to the artisan district and Bil clings to Ori the entire time, the coarse wool of his brown cloak a comfort in the midst of the unfamiliar sites. Nori had only taken her around the market and living areas of Dale, never the center where these things are made. He had never told her that she wasn’t seeing everything, and it suddenly falls to Ori, who is nearly her age, to explain that she is safe. There are less people in the artisan district, and it is more riddled with smaller roads and pathways to places Bil cannot even imagine.  

There are buildings with smoke billowing from their doorways, places with beautifully painted doorways and walls, some tapestries hanging against the walls, too heavy to move in the slight breeze, and even more. Bil’s eyes can’t see everything, there is too much to see in one go, and she sits quietly in the illustrator’s house as Ori works. He moves around, sharpening quills, fetching different kinds of ink, and she doesn’t ask questions. She simply watches him.  

“What did you think?” Ori asks nervously as they walk back, Bil clinging close to him again.  

“It was amazing,” she replies, as honest as she tends to be. “You’re amazing. I can hardly...”  

Someone brushes past her, causing her to stumble and Ori is quick to help her gain her balance, an arm around her waist.  

“Thanks,” he murmurs when she’s balanced again. He’s blushing, scruffy hair falling into his face.  

“It must be nice to be talented at something,” she says as they walk by a potter who is enjoying the late afternoon sun as he throws at his wheel.  

“You have plenty of talents, Bil,” Ori protests.  

She shakes her head and sighs wistfully. “Not like you, nor Dori, nor Nori.”  

His gaze darts around them and he leans in, Bil curiously leaning in as well. “But you can do magic. Isn’t that a talent?”  

She wrinkles her nose. “It’s not something I can hone, I think, but an inborn sort of thing. And what good is it if I can’t use it?”  

“You can use it,” Ori protests. “You’ll just have to be—”  

He cuts himself off and stops walking; Bil does as well, glancing at him worriedly. “Ori, is something the matter?”  

“Shh,” he hisses quietly, pulling her to the side. She looks around wildly, suddenly scared that someone has come to kidnap her or the sort. She hasn’t done any magic recently, but what if? What if they had caught scent of it, or caught feel of it, she’s not sure how, but what if they were coming for her?  

“Ori,” she whispers helplessly and hears clanking from where they had come and the tread of heavy boots. Her spine freezes and she finds herself unable to move but to helplessly hold onto the cloth of Ori’s cloak.  

“Master Ori,” she hears a deep voice, “returning home, are you?”  

She sees Ori nod slowly, fringe falling further into his face. “Yes, I am, sir Dwalin.”  

There’s silence for a few long moments, moments that make Bil want to violently throw up.  

“And who’s this?”  

She clings tighter to Ori’s cloak, knowing that this person is talking of her.  

“A lad my family took in. We found him starving on the streets.”  

“Hmm.” Dwalin sounds skeptical. Bil wants him to go away and never come back, just stay far, far away from her. “Doing a good deed, then.”  

“Yes, sir.”  

More long moments of silence.  

“He’s a shy one.”  

“He was abused as a child, sir.”  

The idea of having been an abused child infuriates her, because Mother loves her, she was not abused, but she doesn’t say anything at this moment. She stores it in her mind to be remembered once Dwalin has gone and she can berate Ori.  

“Ah. I see.” The understanding in Dwalin’s voice infuriates her more and she turns to level a glare at him and nearly starts hiding behind Ori. He’s tall, a little taller than Nori, with a bald pate with tattoos that look incredibly painful instead. He’s armored heavily, which helps explain in part the heavy tread, and Bil thinks that if she was unlucky, a single step from him might break her foot.  

“He exaggerates,” she says, voice quailing more than she wanted.  

“Bil,” Ori says, tone a warning.  

She frowns at him, tugging the cloak a little closer to her. “She loves me,” she says stubbornly. “She does.”  

A heavy hand rests on her shoulder for a moment; it’s Dwalin, offering sympathy she doesn’t want.  

“It’ll be okay, lad.”  

“It wasn’t abuse,” she bites back, shaking her shoulder to get rid of Dwalin’s touch.  

“Lad,” someone says, a person next to him and his face is familiar, the red hair striking a chord in her memory she can’t call forth. “Your name is Bil?”  

Ah. She remembers him, from her first day in Dale. She shrinks further behind Ori and thinks that a hood would most definitely be useful. “Yes. It is.”  

He smiles at her, and the warmth and welcome in it is unexpected. “I’m glad you were able to find someone to help take care of you. I was worried.”  

“I am of no consequence to you, sir, but thank you for your concern.”  

“Bil,” Ori hisses. “Be more polite.”  

She wrinkles her nose, hand twisting in his cloak.  

“It is fine, Ori. I understand.”  

Dwalin is staring seriously at her; then it transfers to Ori and a small smiles flits across his face. “I’m glad you’re doing well,” he says courteously, before jerking his head at Gloin. The two walk away and she can feel the vibrations in the ground.  

“How do you know Gloin?” Ori asks, once they are gone. Bil thinks there are more pressing issues at hand, but answers him nonetheless.  

“He offered me a hand when I first arrived in Dale,” she says, a little shortly. “But who was that Dwalin fellow? He looks...” There is no word for what Bil thinks Dwalin looks like and trails off purposefully.  

“Terribly scary, right?” He sighs and tugs Bil’s hand loose from his clothes. “Please don’t tell Dori or Nori about this.”  

“Why?”  

“They’ll freak out,” he tells her with a frown, starting to walk after the two. “Nori doesn’t care much for them, seeing how they’re guards and all, and Dori is cautious of all my friends.”  

“The two of you are friends?” She asks, wide-eyed. It’s hard to imagine the two together; mild-mannered Ori with his honest smile and freckles with the hulking man with a tattooed scalp.  

He shrugs. “More or less.”  

“How did you meet?”  

“He made a commission for one of the princes from my master and so we met when he came by. He came by often.”  

She hums in understanding, but then her brow furrows. “Princes? We have princes?”  

Ori gives her a surprised look, gently guiding her back into the market thoroughfare. “You haven’t found out? We have the heir prince, Thorin, and then his sister-sons, Fili and Kili.”  

She stops. Someone bumps into her as they pass, pitching her forward and she somehow manages to right herself before she skids onto the ground. Thorin, Fili and Kili. She’s willing to pass the names off as nothing unusual, that maybe these are just semi-common names, but Bil hasn’t heard those names since she saw Thorin the day before she left.  

“Bil? Bil, are you okay?”  

Ori’s hand is on her shoulder, a look of sweet concern on his face. She stares at him for long moments. His knees are slightly bent to have a better look at her face, his thick eyebrows are drawn together and he breaks away from staring straight at her to flick it out of his face.  

“How are they?” She breathes, a hand going to grip the one on her shoulder. “Are they well?”  

“As far as I’m aware...” He’s frowning at her, the concern still present but the confusion is greater. “I thought you didn’t know them.”  

Bil doesn’t hear him, wondering if there had been any way for her to have known. “Fili and Kili, they play around a lot? Fili has blonde hair, Kili dark? Takes after Thorin more?”  

“Why, yes, but Bil—”  

“And they live in Erebor?”  

“They are royalty, so—”  

“Does that mean they have magic too? Aristocrats and magic usually run hand-in-hand?”  

“Bil, you’re scaring me a little.”  

She lets go of his hand, movements boxy and jerky. “I need to think.”  

“About what? Bil, what’s going on?”  

She sighs, runs a hand through her short hair and does so again. “Ori, I need time to think. I’ll be fine, okay, I know how to get back home from here.”  

Calling the apartment home always warms her heart for some reason, but she knows it’s not just her from the slight smile that crosses Ori’s face. “Okay, Bil, if you say so.”  

Bil’s not sure if she can truly feel his eyes on her back as she walks away, but she’s positive that he is watching her do so. She goes some yards before she turns around to wave at him and proves herself correct because he is watching her, hands clutched together though his face goes rather curiously blank after she turns. Dipping her head she waves before she ducks into an alleyway she recognizes. Her mind stays empty for the first few moments of solo travel, as she’s not quite ready to think quite yet, but when the side street she ends up in is empty, she falls to the ground.  

Princes. They’re _princes_. Royalty. As in: far, far above Bil’s status. Why were they even in her forest? What were they doing that caused them to stumble upon her Tower, and why had they repeated their visits? Surely they had more important things than to attend to a poor, naive girl living in said Tower. She can’t puzzle it out, because she’s learned a few things while living in Dale and one of them is that people are not naturally kind. Most of the time kindness must be prompted and even then it is for a certain end.  

One of the only kindnesses that sometimes sways her to the other side is the generosity of the three brothers who have taken her in without complaint and feed her, clothe her, teach her. They are the only ones Bil would call truly kind.  

Thorin, she knows, was kind because he pitied her but she can’t help but feel like there was more to it. She almost wants there to have been more to it, for there to be secret reasons for his kindness. She can’t help but think that surely there were underhanded thoughts behind his generosity, though that might be due to the influence against Ereborians she’s received.  

Then there is the thought that now she knows how to find them. She had come here because she thought that they would be here, that perhaps they could find her on the way, but so far neither had come true. They are not in Dale and she had been lonely all the way here. But now she knows where they are and she knows she can go and find them this time.  

Bil almost stands with this half-formed resolve, but it crumbles too quickly under the onslaught of reality for her to make it all the way to her feet. Why would they be happy to see her? She’s read of Kings and Princes, she’s read of monarchies and aristocracy and she’s heard plenty of Erebor’s pride to have a gut feeling that they would not welcome her with open arms. Oh, maybe they would because of the magic thing, but she’s a commoner. She’s a commoner without anything to her name.  

A few moments later Bil is unwillingly wiping at her eyes, at the unwanted and hated tears that slide slowly down the curve of her cheeks. They hang precipitously at the edge of her jaw, then fall onto the fabric of her drawstring trousers. The pads of her fingers turn violent on her own face, furiously clawing at her eyes, wishing that the tears would stop. She shouldn’t cry, there’s no need for her to cry. Maybe, after all, she doesn’t need Thorin, his nephews, maybe she’ll be fine without them. She has magic of her own, though she’s awfully shoddy at it and it hasn’t been good for much so far, but when winter comes she will use it to help Dori, Nori and Ori, the kind brothers who took her in with wicked and gentle smiles. She _doesn’t_ need them: this is a prophecy she will make true.  

The tears, however, do not stop with her resolution because, no matter what she tells her aching heart, it remains attached to the brothers that are like sun and moon, to their uncle who had been stilted and sent her letters instead of apologizing to her in person. As she remains sitting there, Bil starts to wish that Nori were in town and that he would pop up from somewhere and give her a sharp shake and words that are equally sharp, but softer than goose down underneath that guise.  

Instead, a stranger squats in front of her, and Bil can see concerned eyes over the thatch of his beard and a handlebar mustache.  

“Boy, are you okay? Do you need help? I haven’t much to spare, but I know a few coppers can last a long time if you’re thrifty.”  

“Your hat,” Bil says, instead of replying to his question. “Is a little ridiculous.”  

The concerned look fades a little and he reaches across to wipe a thumb underneath her eye. “It’s good for making kids smile and look, lo and behold, it’s working it’s spell on you.”  

“I am not a child,” she protests, though it’s weak. “Nor do I need coppers. I am...” Half in love with people she hardly knows? “Emotionally troubled, but ‘tis nothing, it shall pass like everything does.”  

“Now, lad,” the stranger says, reaching across and swiping his thumb under her other eye. The skin feels incredibly tender and she wonders if there are marks from her fingers through her careless scratching. “I might not know how old you are, but you are surely too young to be thinking such thoughts.”  

“I am twenty,” she murmurs. “And that is plenty old enough to realize futility.”  

“Twenty! My lad, you are far too young to be aware of such a thing; you’re meant to be brash and bold at such an age, and you are surely not meant to cry over such a thing.”  

She rubs her eyes; they feel incredibly sore and so very, very tired. “My name’s Bil.”  

His hand is large and warm as he rests it on her head, ruffling her hair. “And I am Bofur. Now, lad, let’s get you a warm cup of tea, yes? It’s going to be getting chilly later, and you don’t looked wrapped snug enough for my liking.”  

She smiles at him; the smile he rewards her with is gentle. He stands, extends a hand, and it is without a second thought that she reaches up take his hand and let herself be hauled up. “There we go. Now, let’s get that tea for you, and some biscuits maybe. My brother works in Erebor sometimes, feeding the _royals_ even, so feel assured that you’ll be getting the finest pastries in all of Dale.”  

Bil laughs and follows him, footsteps feeling lighter. The mention of Erebor and the royal family doesn’t pang her heart, does not darken the sky above her in any increment, and for that all she feels is the slightest, momentary relief. She cannot help but feel that Bofur’s respite is temporary and that the moment she is alone again, sitting in her little bedroom, it will all come crashing back down again, the fact that her saviors are unreachable to her now.  

It almost makes her wish she had remained in her Tower, if it meant that they would still be in her reach.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> waaah sorry for the late update D: I was super busy with finals and packing all of my stuff- I must admit that I am a terrible packrat. I shall try to be more regular with updates from here on out, but they are more likely to be weekly or biweekly than what I had going before. well, I hoped you enjoyed this chapter, and the offer to see what could happen in the future!


	8. Chapter 8

Bofur’s brother does make the most delicious scones Bil has ever tasted. She’s nicked plenty of baked goods from stalls around Dale, but nothing compares to the weight and sweetness of Bombur’s scones. He’s not home, Bofur tells her as he pushes her towards an armchair with it’s stuffing sticking out in the back, but he believes in feeding people more than anything in the world. Bofur winks at her as he mentions his girth, though his face is sincere as he talks about the generosity of his brother.  

“We earn plenty for a decent living, but the two of us are rather tender-hearted and sometimes we feed others more than ourselves. Bombur does have quite an expense for himself, though he takes money from his own food track in order to feed someone starving and destitute.”  

“He sounds quite lovely, your brother,” Bil says politely, blushing from an emotion mixed between embarrassment and gratitude as he wraps a blanket around her shoulders.  

“He is,” Bofur sighs, grinning at her. “Never known a kinder soul.” Bil hasn’t met this Bombur, but she’s quite sure that no matter how nice he is, the three brothers who took her in are just as kind, if not kinder. She’s sure that Ori is the nicest soul she’s ever met, with his shy smile and eagerness to please.  

“May I inquire as to what it is you do? Your brother cooks, do you cook as well?”  

Bofur’s eyes widen enough to elicit a giggle from her before he shakes his head emphatically. “Heavens forbid, no, the most I can make is some toast and some eggs, maybe a stew on a good day.”  

“I doubt that,” she protests, and he smiles at her, silly-faced, before he continues.  

“I make toys. I’m a toy-maker; I run a little stall with my cousin Bifur.”  

Now her eyes widen, though hers is not for the sort of comic relief Bofur’s was. “Toys? Can I see?”  

“Never seen toys before?” He asks, an indulgent smile starting to appear on his face as she shakes her head quickly, the curls that are growing at their usual rapid face bouncing around. “I’ve been working on one,” he murmurs, digging in his pocket and the kettle starts whistling as he pulls it out. He tosses it to her and she catches it with a near fumble as he leaves the room. “It’s yours.”  

“I cannot—” she mumbles, her fingers already starting to run over the edges.  

“I insist,” he calls from the kitchen. Bil can hear him move around, soft footsteps and the subdued thunk of porcelain on wood, though it all fades as she examines the toy in her hands.  

It’s small, half the size of her closed fist, but fairly intricate. She can see how it’s incomplete, with the wings not fully detailed, the tail a rough curl around the body of the dragon, but the face is a wonder. It’s eyes are wonderfully carved, and Bil almost feels as though it’s staring back at her, daring her to something, though she knows not what. The body is partially scaled, though she wonders how many times a finger would have to run over the edges before they start to disappear, lost to an almost smothering love.  

“You are wonderfully talented,” she breathes to Bofur as he comes back, a large mug placed on the table beside her. Steam curls above it; a glance tells her that a tea bag has only been recently added, as the color has not deepened enough to have been brewed for very long. “The eyes, the horns— they are amazing. I cannot imagine how you did it.”  

Bofur smiles bashfully. “I am middlingly talented; the real genius is Bifur. He can create anything he puts his mind to. I am continuously amazed by him.”  

“I’m sure he’s talented,” Bil says, though isn’t sure at all, “but you have talent also. This is wonderful; the dragon looks alive, even if it’s not complete.”  

His cheeks redden. “Drink your tea and then be off with you.”

She smiles at him, one hand curling around the mug and the other wrapped careful fingers around the toy. The wings are folded against the body, and the edges were softened and Bil bets it was with thoughts of a child holding the toy, of not wanting the child to be hurt by sharp points. “Where is your stall?”  

“On Downers,” Bofur replies, a small frown wrinkling his forehead.  

She hums in acknowledgement and takes a sip of her tea; it is yet too hot, so instead she nibbles on the rest of the scone she had taken. “Do you— do you ever need help at the stall?”  

The frown deepens. “Bil, are you asking to be employed?”  

Bil’s spine straightens automatically. “No, more like volunteer work.”  

His mouth flattens, face too serious for her liking. Bofur doesn’t seem like the type to be so serious, so it looks wrong on his face, all sorts of out of place. “We don’t need volunteers.”  

Her fingers ache for something to do, so she clasps onto the mug tightly. It warms her fingers to an almost scalding point, but it’s better and less embarrassing than letting them writhe in her lap. “I need something to do with myself,” she admits. “I— Bofur, I have no family, I was taken in by three brothers and they refuse to take any money I could earn, but there is nothing for me but to dodder around their apartment. I need— I want— to see the world. To see other people. I just—”  

Bofur heaves a deep sigh. Her fingers tremble a little around the mug.  

“Come by tomorrow and I’ll let Bifur take a look at you. You’re a near stranger, so I’ll need to have a chat about this with him. D’you happen to have any references?”

She shakes her head. “No. I— I’m rather new to Dale and hardly know anyone, much less people who can vouch for my work. It’s okay if it doesn’t work out, Bofur, I just wanted something to occupy my time.”  

“Don’t assume you have no hope though, lad. I’ll have a good talk with Bifur, and the most he’ll likely want is a trial period of a sorts. He trusts my judgement and I think you’re a good fellow, that you’d do the best job possible.”  

A type of thrill curls in Bil’s stomach at the thought of real employment, even though she had been told repeatedly by the three brothers— Dori mostly, if she’s being honest— that it was fine for her to not work, not truly contribute, but working isn’t about possible income, but about learning. She might still be learning about the world, will have to learn how to let go of some people, and this job is just what she needs.  
  
  
  


Ori nearly assaults her when she enters the apartment, hands immediately going to cup the sides of her face. “Are you okay? Everything all right?”

She shakes his hands off, nose puckering. “Of course I am, Ori. I just— I got a bit lost, so it took me a bit longer to get home.”  

“I don’t believe you,” he grumbles, Dori appearing in the entryway, a line creasing his forehead.  

“Back, then, Bil? Ori was making it out that you were carried off by kidnappers or something, the way he was carrying on.”  

“Kidnappers?” She echoes, slipping her shoes off. “What do they do?”  

“They thieve people,” Dori says, eying her as she slips by him. “Nasty folk; they propagate the slave trade and all.”  

“Slaves, is it,” she murmurs, hand lightly tapping the pocket that contains the little dragon. “I thought that slaves no longer existed, that people believed all have a right to freedom.”  

Dori pats her shoulder as he goes by, back to the kitchen. “Soup’s for dinner.”  

It is Ori who responds to her comment. “Aye, most do, but there are those with money who wants slaves to make their own lives easier.”  

“So... nobles, then, are those who buy slaves? Who allow these kidnappers to continue the slave trade?”  

Ori’s mouth twists. “There’s no proof, but many believe that it’s actually the Greenwood people who buy the slaves. There are very few people who have met those from the Greenwood, as they tend to be so exclusive, and stories about it prop up.”  

That would explain part of why people were surprised when they heard her Tower was in Greenwood. Maybe— maybe Mother is part of the Greenwood people, though Bil doesn’t want to jump to a conclusion.  

“I met a man called Bofur today, actually. He’s a toymaker and his brother is a cook in Erebor.”  

Ori whistles and Dori frowns, putting bowls on the table for the three of them. “Is the cook’s name Bombur?” Bil nods. “I know the man,” Dori continues, voice rough. “A good man, so I trust his brother, this Bofur, is as well.”  

“He seems good enough,” Bil says cautiously, but is oddly pleased. Bofur does seem like a good man; he’s honest, humorous and light-hearted. She somehow feels as though if they had met under different circumstances, if they had met when she was a girl and not posing as a boy, their relationship would have developed rather differently. As it is, she can’t let any potential feelings get in her way. Even though she almost feels as though Bofur is her chance to leave Mother behind, to leave her Tower behind, it feels much more difficult than she had originally thought it would be. It’s almost as though she’s not ready to let it go, as though she doesn’t want to let it go.  

And sitting at the table with Ori, who’s smiling broadly at her, Dori in the kitchen, Nori probably not to be around for another day or two, she realizes that part of her wants to go back. Her Tower life was so easy and her hands felt so much cleaner. She’s not sure how much money she’s stolen, but she had managed to nick enough to clothe herself without burdening any of the brothers, and enough to afford plenty of food. She might not have gone out very many times, but when she had, she made sure to practice the things Nori taught her.  

Her hands, splayed on the worn surface of the wooden table, tremble slightly. Yes, they are not clean, not as clean as they once were. Maybe she has only stolen from those who look ostentatious, maybe she’s only taken treats from those who target naive people, but they are still crimes.  

She wonders what Thorin would think of her, but she has to banish the thought. Thorin is a tender spot on the canvas of her mind and Bofur’s reassurances have done nothing to assuage her. Bil half-wants to rush into Erebor and demand to see him, prostrate herself before him— but that’s as far as she gets. The plan is half-baked, if that. It’s not even a plan, but an unformed urge in her gut.  

An urge that Bil is never going to follow through. In front of her, Ori’s smile is faltering and that makes her press her trembling fingers firmly into the grain of the table and smile brightly at him.  

“So Bofur and his cousin run a stall on Downers, but that’s not in the artisan district. Is there a reason why?”  

Dori carries the pot of soup and sets it on top of the trivet. “They’re cheaper than those done by artisans,” he says, gruffly, ladling into their bowls. “And oftentimes just as good. No guarantee about their work though.”  

“Guarantee?”  

Ori leans forward, over his bowl, and is quickly nudged back by Dori. “Yes, artisans often have a guarantee about their work. If it breaks quickly, they’ll fix it without a charge. If they change their mind on the design, they’ll rework it without charge. Stuff like that. Vendors who are not artisans or have not earned an artisan status are cheaper, but are without any sort of guarantee so it’s difficult to know how much you can trust their work.”  

Bil’s mouth opens a little in wonder and thought, eyebrows drawing together the slightest. “Thats… complicated.”  

Dori reaches across and ruffles her hair. “It’s a good system, if you ask me. It spreads the wealth around a tad better than anything else.”  

“Complicated often seems to mean clever,” Bil says, smiling as she starts on the soup. It’s creamy, with vegetables she used to never have in her Tower. The thought curls in her stomach.  
  
  
  


Bil is very glad that the next day is clear, some clouds in the distant, but promising to be a lovely autumn day. The trees on some of the avenues have changed color and it’s a beautiful walk to Downers amongst the people. She has learned to distinguish many of them, from the tourists, the people who live in the area, those who are going to their jobs, and so on. The Ereboreans are the most distinct, the easiest to spot; they tend to be those dressed the fanciest, the richest and most unnecessarily.  

She spots Bofur from his laugh, because it arches over the rest of the noise and she smiles hesitantly at him when she reaches his stall. The man standing next to him is tall, intimidatingly so, at least three heads above her, and a scar runs across his face. It looks painful even now, though Bil would never actually ask him about it.  

“Bil, you came! This is my cousin, Bifur, but don’t let his looks scare you. He’s gentle as a kitten.”  

She smiles politely, not quite knowing how gentle kittens are, or what a kitten _is_ exactly. An animal, of some sort, clearly, but not much more beyond that. “Nice to meet you,” she says politely, her voice quavering on the end because of the grimace he gives her. It might have been a smile, but it looks like it was forced from him.  

“He doesn’t talk much, so excuse him. Now, you want to work, is it?”  

“I do,” she says nodding, not mentioning that she’d prefer to some honest work with the bartering system than simply taking for her own need. “But I don’t necessarily want to be paid. Is that okay?”  

Bifur looks at her dubiously down his nose; Bil’s not sure if he is simply physically looking down his nose at her because he’s so much taller, or if he’s actually looking down upon her metaphorically. He gestures something to Bofur and a frown flits across his face.  

“Bifur, he’ll be fine. Just let him try.”  

The next thing Bil knows, she’s standing behind their stall, various toys set on the surface in front of her and with vague instructions about how to sell. “Bifur’ll work in the back, creating more toys and the like; the two of us will be the salespeople. Around noon I’ll head off and get us some lunch. Is there—”  

“Let me get lunch,” Bil cuts him off, trying to not glance nervously at Bifur. She’s not sure she could handle being alone with him for any amount of time without utterly freaking out or apologizing profusely for some minor thing. “I know some good places around here, so, please?”  

He looks puzzled. “I thought you were new to the area?”  

“The first thing to learn about any new area,” she says with a crooked smile. “Is where the good food is.”  

A slow smile spreads across Bofur’s face and she can hear Bifur chuckle from behind the stall as well. “You’ll fit right in between the two of us.”  

She does fit right in. The morning passes quickly with her and Bofur enticing customers to the stall and it’s thrilling to know that at least two of the lovely figurines sold because of her. Bofur might have helped, but it was only a little. Most of it was from Bil’s own persuasive power.  

Then, somehow, it’s noon and Bofur is requesting a bagon and steak sandwich and tells Bil that Bifur would like the same. She nods, unsure, and hurries off to a sandwich stall she’s stolen from before. It’s not like stealing their lunches is an unconscious choice, it just happens that way. And since the owner doesn’t notice, too busy arguing with a lady about the price of his bread, she figures that it’s okay if the steals from him. Being a thief from ornery people isn’t as bad as being a thief from honest-working folk like Bofur, though she recalls taking an awfully pretty necklace from a young man’s stall, regardless of how nice looking the lad had been.  

Bil returns with the sandwiches and the two devour them quickly, Bofur humming lightly. “Where’d you get this?” He asks, when he’s done. “It’s delicious.”  

“Oh, just this place I know,” she says, a bit nervously. She hopes he doesn’t ask for the name because, one, she doesn’t know and two, if she had been paying, they would have been hideously expensive and she doesn’t want Bofur to feel any need to pay her back or any other such nonsense. “They bake their own bread and all.”  

“How d’you like it?” Bofur asks Bifur, taking a swig from the water bottle they have under the stall’s table. Bifur makes a sound Bil cannot interpret, but there’s nothing left of the sandwich but crumbs and she has her answer without any translation from Bofur. She can’t help but beam quietly as Bofur turns to her with a twinkle in his eye.  

When they’re wrapping everything up, sometime in the late afternoon, Bifur lays a heavy hand on her shoulder. She doesn’t need Bofur to translate this either, because she knows that this means approval and that she can come tomorrow. There are no words for the gratitude that wells up and she nearly starts crying, though that is quickly put a stop to by Bofur’s sudden flurry to find a handkerchief.  

“Don’t care to see you cry again, lad,” he says gently, a box on his shoulder to carry back to his home. “And I’ll see you tomorrow.”  
  
  
  


There was a routine before working with Bofur and Bifur, but that routine had been lazy and boring and is easily replaced. Bil tells the brothers about working with Bofur and, for the most part, they support her. Nori equivocates for a bit until Bil tells him later that she’s still working on her pickpocketing and then he grins widely at her and tells her that working at the stall provides a solid front, but it also puts her in a place where she can easily be found, that a routine can get a thief caught. She only partially pays attention to that, because she’s running a little late and is eager to get out the door.  

Most of the time she pulls a pastry from a stall as she moves her way through the streets. She’s small and unobtrusive; most of the time no one notices as she moves through the people, even when there aren’t that many people around. As time passes and people start wearing thicker clothes for the winter weather, Bil finds herself slipping coins out of people’s pockets.  

And as the weather gets colder, Bil starts practicing more and more of her magic. She cannot help but recall her cold, lonely winters in her Tower. She remembers waking up, huddled under her blankets, and waiting dreary days. There had been no sounds of animals from the forest, and everything had looked so dead. Even though the trees have dropped their leaves, Dale is still alive. There are colorful banners for some sort of festival that Bil doesn’t pay attention to other than for the bright colors it causes to emerge in the city.  

Remembering how terrible Mother was with heating spells, Bil practices on the walls of her room until she can it to stick for more than a few minutes, an hour, and finally until she can get it for a full day and it becomes part of her morning routine in the morning. She goes to each room, snaps her fingers and points and the room is immediately cozier, walls warm to the touch. She becomes so good at it, doing it so many times in a single day, that eventually all she needs is the pointed finger with her concentration rolling from it. Her lifting spell becomes just as good, and she has become with other simple spells like folding her clothes, or stirring a bowl of vegetables or a pot of soup.  

The three brothers are nervous at first about her increased use of magic, but soon accept it when they wake up in rooms that are considerably warmer than they would have been without her. Sometimes they leave the cleaning to her— Nori especially; Dori and Ori do some of their own cleaning, but tell her that it’s easier for her to do the dishes than they. It frustrates her a little, but they are her new family. They are like brothers she never had and she loves them, so she does everything for them as an act of love. It is the best way for her to express herself towards them.  
  
  


“Gloin and Dwalin asked after you today,” Ori says one night over dinner. “Gloin especially.”  

Bil smiles, though inside she’s suddenly worried that maybe he had caught wind of her thieving practices. “What did you tell him?”  

“That you’re fine, excellent even. Couldn’t be better.”  

“And that is the truth,” she agrees, smiling at him. His smile in return is wide and honest, as always. He has grown more at ease and relaxed around her, for which she will be eternally grateful and happy.  

“He would like to see you to make sure, though. Not sure why.”  

Her hands tremble the slightest bit as she holds a knife over a slice of bread, but her hands continue spreading the butter on the bread without prompting from her mind. “Is that so? Wouldn’t that be unusual?”  

Dori eyes her shrewdly. “Should I be concerned about you like I am with Nori?”  

“Of course not, I don’t steal nearly as much as him,” she quickly protests. “But— a guard being interested me doesn’t make me feel… _comfortable_ exactly.”  

Dori shakes his head in disappointment. It makes Bil feel very small, and as though she’s committed many crimes— which she has, actually, but it never felt quite this bad. “I warned you to be careful around Nori.”  

“At least I don’t _burgle_. I only take from those on the street, those who have plenty, or vendors who seem especially cruel.”  

“A crime is a crime,” Dori says, puffy eyebrows lowering over his eyes. “The intention of the crime does not change the fact that they are all equally illegal.”  

“Some crimes are worse than others,” Bil continues to protest mulishly. “I’m much better than Nori.”  

“Ah, Dori, Bil,” Ori says, voice a little panicked. “Let’s not forget the midwinter fest! It’s coming up rather soon.”  

“Is that what all the banners are for?”  

Dori’s eyebrow goes up. “You’ve been paying rapt attention, I can see.”  

She shrugs. “Well, I don’t know what midwinter even is, though I believe I can hazard a guess that’s nearly correct.”  

“It’s a festival that’s held on the longest night of the year,” Ori fills in for her, and he’s so excited that she nearly feels obliged to be excited without knowing anything of the event. “There are many sorts of events and contests leading up to it, and there’s dancing, music, all sorts of cool things.”  

“There’s a magic display, too,” Dori adds. “It’s the biggest night of the year for many magicians who aren’t top-notch, because it’s midwinter night that the lights show up best and they battle for the prestige being the best gives them.”  

“It doesn’t sound like much fun for me,” she mutters. “After all, what can I do? I don’t even know how to dance.”  

The two stare at her. “That’s right,” Ori murmurs after a few moments. “You’ve acclimated quite well, Bil, that sometimes I forget that you haven’t grown up in Dale.”

She blushes and mumbles a “thanks” because there’s no way that’s not a compliment.  

“We’ll have to teach you the male part,” Dori muses aloud. “Because you’re posing as a lad and all.”  

“Both are better,” Ori insists. “Though neither of us can reasonably teach her. Nori, maybe, but he can’t be relied upon.”  

“How about I just don’t dance?” Bil suggests, hardly even bothering to hope her suggestion will be taken seriously.  

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dori snaps at her. “We’ve taken you in and so we shall do this properly.”  

They sit in silence for long minutes, the two men in thought while Bil pokes at the rest of her dinner. The salad has wilted a bit after long minutes of being over-drenched in dressing; it had been an accident, but there had been no extra lettuce to compensate for too much dressing.  

“There is...” Ori finally says, but trails off.  

“I’d rather not,” Dori sighs, “but he is the best. He can also answer any questions she might have.”  

“He’ll figure her out in a heartbeat.”  

They both sigh this time.  

“Who are you talking about?” She asks, because her curiosity will always get the better of her.  

Dori stares at her, eyes squinting a little. “How much has your hair grown?”  

Her free hand goes to her head, fingers automatically winding curls around each digit. “My hair grows very, very fast. Do I need it cut again?”  

“Gandalf it is, then,” Dori says, looking upset at the thought of sending Bil to him. “He can cut your hair as well. We’ll make it a package deal of a sorts.”  

“As well? What else is he going to be doing?”  

“He...” Dori starts, but then doesn’t seem to know how to finish his sentence.  

“He teaches,” Or finishes for him, but even he seems unsure.  

“And he’ll be cutting my hair.”  

“A master of all trades, more like,” Dori supplies. “You’ll have to cut your hours with Bofur, because I have a feeling Gandalf will be wanting quite a bit of your time.”  


	9. Chapter 9

The next day, Bil is surprised to see Gloin at the toy stall. She eyes him suspiciously at first, before thinking that maybe she’s listened to Nori too often if she thinks all he wants is to put her behind bars. She’s never even seen a jail cell before, so she has less of a reason to be behind those said bars than Nori. Personally, Bil doesn’t see much of a problem with that, though it does happen to sound awfully inconvenient to be kept in a room for an extended period of time. It’s pretty much solely for that reason that Bil is leery of barred rooms and those who police them. Which includes Gloin, though he doesn’t seem especially in want of leading her to the jail.  

“I see you’re doing better,” Gloin says solicitously when she smiles a tad nervously at him. “Much, much better.”  

“I am,” she replies, eyes flickering to Bofur. “As you can see, I even have a job.”  

“She refuses to be paid though,” Bofur adds with a smile, though the twinkle in his eye isn’t present. He’s a bit worried by Gloin’s presence, though not overly so if he’s willing to tease.  

“I just want experiences,” Bil counters, unable to help the slight blush that comes to her cheeks. “To be fair, I’m getting more out of the bargain than you are.”  

Gloin continues to smile pleasantly at her, which is slightly unnerving. “Dwalin was concerned about you.”  

 _Dwalin_? “Why would he be concerned? We met but briefly— we hardly had a proper introduction.”  

Gloin’s face turns mischievous. “Be careful with your words around the elder lads, but Dwalin’s fancied Ori for a bit now. He acts gruff and tough when they happen to run across each other’s paths, but he goes into the Artisan district a tad too often for coincidence.”  

Bil’s eyes widen as she stare at him, and then comprehension dawns. “ _Oh_. I see now. You want to play matchmaker for the two. That’s why you’ve been asking after me, you want my help to set them up.”  

Gloin’s face is, for a moment, startled, but then the smile returns. “You’re sharper than I gave you credit for, Bil, and yes. I would like to, as you said, set them up. The midwinter festival happens to be known for its couples.”  

“Is there some sort of couple event that is held?”  

“Yes, at dawn the next day there’s an exchange that happens and it’s typically between those with intentions.”  

She nods slowly. “And you need my help why?”  

“Dwalin is terrified that Ori is scared of him.”  

“That would be me,” Bil is unable to stop herself from saying dryly. “But Ori’s more of the opinion that he’s a good person.”  

“Dwalin’s pride would prevent him from taking any action if he’s not wholly sure of a positive answer, so I would like you to figure out how Ori feels.”  

She raises her eyebrows. “This seems too easy. Are you going to be prodding Dwalin in the right direction?”  

His grin widens. “Precisely. I must say, Bil, you’re a much better sort than I expected. Clever and accepting.”  

“Accepting? Is there something unusual going on?”  

At this moment, Bofur leans a bit closer. “Love between two men isn’t the norm around here, Bil, lad. Some circles don’t approve.”  

“Some circles being…” She trails off meaningfully with a slight jerk towards the mountain and Bofur nods, eyes wide.  

“A pile of nonsense if you ask me, but no one ever asks me.”  

“It’s a split between the liberals and the conservatives,” Gloin says with a correctional tone, frowning at Bofur. “Rather than it being the elite, it depends on which political belief you lean towards.”  

“But,” Bil says, glancing between the two. “Aren’t we all human beings? Why would love between a man and woman be any different than love between a man and a man? Love is love, a human is a human. Isn’t this common sense?”  

Gloin holds her gaze solemnly. “Again, you surprise me. I am nearly twice your age and it has taken me this long to reach something of the same conclusion. My hat is off to you, lad.”  

“He’s just the brightest little thing, isn’t it?” Bofur grins, so happily, that Bil can’t help but smile back at him.  

“I appreciate your good sentiments,” she says, rolling her eyes. “But I think it’s more of the fresh-eyes thing than anything else.”  

“What do you mean?”  

She suddenly grows nervous, recalling what Ori had said the last time she and Gloin had met. “I lived... alone, for a long time.” A pitying look appears in Gloin’s eyes, clearly remembering Ori’s words about abuse. “And because I was alone for so long, I don’t see society in quite the same way. Or I think so? I’m not quite sure myself.”  

“Or maybe you’re just a good person,” Bofur says, voice taking on that reassuring tone that always bolsters Bil. She gives him a fleeting smile.  

“Whichever it is, I look forward to hearing from you about Ori.”  

She nods towards Gloin. “Of course. What’s the best way to reach you?”  

His dark brown eyes search her face for a long moment. “Are you literate?”  

She reddens in indignation. “Yes, and I happen to be widely read if you must know.”  

A slight grimace crosses his face— rightly so, in Bil’s opinion. “I meant no offence.”  

“Too bad,” she is unable to stop from snapping, although she knows that she should be trying to remain in the guard’s good graces. “Because offence was taken.”  

Bofur is the one who calms her, a hand pressing down on her shoulder. His hands are so large; she always marvels at how he can create such intricate, small toys with hands that so easily span her shoulder. “Lad, there are plenty of folk in Dale who cannot read. This is not how you should defend your pride.”  

She settles down at Bofur’s comment. Her literacy, the breadth of her knowledge, had been one of the few things she thought was level with the majority of other people in the world, but maybe it’s not. “Everyone should know how to read and write,” she say. “And I mean more than just their name.”  

“Decades ago it was for the elite only,” Gloin says, tone slightly cautious. “But we have progressed quite a bit the past few years, since Thorin’s involvement.”  

Oh no, this isn’t good. “Thorin?”  

“The prince,” Bofur supplies, and she shoots him a sharp glance.  

“I know that,” Bil snaps at him. “I was wondering what it was he did.”

“He supports the commoners a lot more. He seems to firmly believe that, essentially, commoners and the aristocracy are equals, especially with the magic bit.”

Oh. That’s no good either. In fact, it’s worse, because it’s making her heart beat oddly. It’s not far; she hardly knows him yet aches to know him better. She can hardly even recall his face, and only remembers that he was taller than his nephews with black locks tumbling over his shoulders.

“The magic bit?” She asks, a bit breathlessly. “What do you mean?”  

She does not miss that Gloin and Bofur share a glance before Gloin clears his throat. “That’s enough gossip for a day, lad. I best be getting on, leave you to your work. Feel free to leave a note at any guard house and they’ll inform me of it.”  

He sidles away, quick for a bulky man and she slowly turns to stare at Bofur. He’s looking at her with a troubled expression, a slight crease in his forehead. “The prince— he’s a good sort.”  

“And?”  

“Well, it’s not for me to say.”  

“That’s never quite stopped you before.”  

“This time,” Bofur says while sighing heavily. “I mean it. There are some things that are not for me to speak of.”  

It is rare for Bofur to not want to talk about anything. He’s usually the first one to offer a tidbit of information, to gossip about anything and everything with any of the customers, and that he won’t share the particulars on Thorin and magic is a sign that this is probably something she shouldn’t get into. But then her blocks slip heavily into place, resounding heavily in her own mind. She’s not supposed to think about Thorin, much less _ask_ after him. She is being entirely contrary to herself and so she neatly folds the corners of the question and slips it far away.

 

 

“I already told you, I refuse to take dancing lessons.”  

“And I told you,” Dori says with exasperation. “You don’t have a choice.”  

“I am not a— a cow to be corralled into a pen! I am a person and you cannot make me go.”  

“Then,” Dori starts, Bil watching the smile that starts to settle upon his face with horror. “It is a good thing that Gandalf is coming here.”  

“Coming here. To teach me—? Dori, please, I have no need for dancing. I will be fine at the festival on my own, just watching.”  

“You mean pick-pocketing,” Dori growls, his face and tone taking that edge it does whenever he thinks of law-breakers. It is quite a miracle that he hasn’t turned in his own brother yet, and she probably shouldn’t push it with him quite so often.  

“No, I don’t, I was thinking of spending it with Bofur! And his brother Bombur is supposed to be around, and I was hoping to meet him!”  

The smile that horrifies Bil so is back in place. “And, regardless of your supposed gender, they will most certainly want to dance.”  

This tactic is clearly not working, so she quickly switches it up. “You don’t even seem to like this Gandalf fellow.”  

He looks speculative for a moment. “It’s more along the lines of having had some disagreements in the past, but we are good friends. Gandalf is the best sort— don’t forget to be extra careful around him, by the way. He could have your true gender sussed out in a trice.”  

She flounders. Dori had given her lecture upon lecture since the dinnertime conversation about the midwinter festival, and Bil had tuned most of them out because she had thought she could wheedle her way out of these blasted lessons. As it turns out, she was not able to. “Dori,” she tries again, but he shakes his head.  

“He is to be here shortly.”  

Ori isn’t home to help divert Dori’s attention. It is only her, and she had been kept from leaving for these lessons. It was clever of him to have the lessons here, though she’s a bit bitter that she’s only hearing of that _now_. Maybe he had mentioned it during one of those lectures she had tuned out, which only means that this is her due. If she’d recalled the day better, she would have stayed at Bofur’s the other night, forget the consequences.  

Bil has already looked out all the windows a second and a third time, and she still thinks it too high to leap from. She’s tempted to look again, as though she needs to see the prevention of her escape for it to be driven home.  

Then there’s a knock at the door that sounds strangely ominous to her; it’s not the sound of a loosely clenched fist rapping on wood, but something stronger, sturdier on wood. Maybe he doesn’t have hands. Maybe he’s only part-human, part tree or something.  

Dori ignores her panicked, stricken look and goes to the door. “Gandalf,” she hears him say courteously. “How are you today?”  

Gandalf’s voice is deeper and rounder, the vowels and consonants coming out smoothly. “As well as can be expected, Master Dori. Now, where’s the lad I am to teach?”

“He’s just through here.”  

There is nowhere to hide, though Bil does to to stand behind a chair to get most of the table between them. She’s going to make this as difficult as she possibly can and her hands whiten from the tight grip she has on the back of the chair.  

Gandalf is incredibly tall, needing to stoop the slightest to fit through the doorway and she wonders how on earth such a tall person is going to teach her, someone who is quite small, how to dance. How is this going to work? His clothes are nondescript, plain in color and cut, but his face somehow reminds Bil of Mother. It’s something in the eyes, the sharpness of the gaze and the set of the mouth.  

“This is him, then?” Gandalf asks Dori, glancing quickly over Bil and then back to Dori. “I see what you mean about the haircut. His is all over the place without a single attempt to try and control it.”  

“Bil, come over here.” She shakes her head, though it’s a slower and more thoughtful movement than it would have been scant minutes ago.  

“Do you have family, Mister Gandalf?” She can’t help herself from asking, and then he’s looking full-on her, amusement in every line of his face.  

“We all have families, but I think you’re asking after someone in particular.”  

“A woman, with violet eyes.” His eyebrows narrow as he stares at her. “It’s just— you remind me of her. Somehow. Are you perhaps related?”  

“I have no female relatives left living,” Gandalf says, after moments pass of them staring at each other. “Why do you ask?”  

“I— Are you sure?” Her grip tightens to the point of pain, the edges cutting cruelly into her palms. “You look— you look similar, to her.”  

“Bil, are you okay?” Dori’s voice is concerned, his hand resting carefully on hers. “Is this about your mother?”  

She forces her hands to let go of the chair and step back. Gandalf continues to stare at her, his face impassively blank. “It’s nothing at all,” she says, smiling as brightly as she can. “There was a charming woman at Bofur’s stall the other day and they happen to bear a striking resemblance to each other. Gandalf is, however, taller than her by far.” Bil’s not sure if the last part is part of the lie she has just created or truth.  

Dori smiles back at her, placated. “I know no one taller than Gandalf. Now, will you take your lessons? This was all some attempt to stall them, wasn’t it?”  

She makes herself laugh. “You see right through me, don’t you, Dori.”  

“It’s my intuition,” he says. “Go over and have a talk with Gandalf and, please, Bil, be on good behavior. I don’t want to hear tales of you willfully stepping on his toes.”  

“You shan’t.”  

His hand goes to her hair, ruffling it, and then leaves the two alone.  

“There was no woman before, was there?”  

She smiles brightly at Gandalf, easier to do now that the initial lie has passed, and rounds the table to stand in front of him. “Yes, there was. You are to cut my hair?”  

“This woman,” Gandalf says, hand resting heavily on her head, fingers going through her curls. “Has violet eyes and is shorter than me, and I somehow remind you of her.”  

“Yes, you do. Quite odd, actually, I don’t quite know what came over me. But please, can you cut my hair? It’s unnecessarily long and Dori seems displeased by the last cut I gave myself.”  

“Why yes, of course, it’s part of what I’m being paid for.” He runs his hand through her hair, then pulls the ends up closer to him. “And when was your hair last cut?”  

“Some months ago, perhaps four.”  

“Four?” Gandalf’s voice remains neutral, but his eyebrows go up. “Is that all?”

“It might have been five,” she hedges. “Is something wrong?”  

“Your hair grows unusually fast is all,” Gandalf assures her and then pushes her gently to a seat. “You want it cut in a boyish style.”  

“Of course,” she says, almost too quickly. “Any style is fine, I just want it short.”  

“You don’t care for long hair? Some girls appreciate long hair. The princes, in fact, all have long hair and I’ve heard it helps make them popular.”  

Bil tells herself not to let her hands twist in the fabric of her trousers, but they do anyways. “How popular?”  

“Very, though I could not be sure if it was their hair or their royal status that makes them popular.”  

Her hands relax a little. She can accept it much better if it’s for their status than their hair, though she’s not sure why it matters. Because it doesn’t.  

They are not for her.  

“You would be quite popular with girls as well, Bil, if you were to let your hair grow out. You have a lovely shade, and I know many a girl who would be jealous of the thickness of your hair.”  

She shakes her head rapidly. “No. I want it cut. I do not want long hair again.”  

“How long was your hair before you cut it?”  

Bil bites her lip, recalling curling with her hair in winter, how it trailed behind her wherever she went like a loyal animal. “Long enough.”  

Gandalf hums, and then something starts snipping at her hair, locks falling around her. She straightens without thinking, a little shocked, but the new weight of Gandalf’s hand on her shoulder keeps her from moving too much. “I’m using magic to cut your hair,” he explains, the tone telling her that this is a near normal procedure for him. “It will not harm you and this is really much, much easier than using a pair of scissors.”  

“I trust you,” Bil says instead of saying that she trusts magic. “That is, I trust you not to harm me. I hope you don’t mess my hair up, though, I have a reputation of wild hair to upkeep.”  

Gandalf chuckles. “I am sorry to inform you, then, that if you had wanted to maintain that reputation, a haircut is not the way to do so.”  

“Ah, what a shame. All that hard work, for nothing.” Bil heaves a sigh, but is unable to keep the smile off her face.  

“I appreciate the trust, Bil,” Gandalf says instead of continuing their joke. “It gladdens me.”  

“It is of no consequence,” she insists, suddenly embarrassed by the seriousness of Gandalf’s voice. “And so am I. I am of no consequences, just a lad with no family who wandered into Dale by what is very much a mistake.”  

“Oh, Bil.” His tone makes her want to cry, for some awful reason. It sounds so understanding and as though he will be there for her, every step of whatever path she chooses to take. They’ve only known each other for a few minutes as well. “Everyone is of consequence, and I think that you are more important than you realize. I have a feeling that you are going to change a lot more than you think you are capable of.”  

Her hair takes some time, which is spent in silence. When done, she simply runs a hand through her oddly short hair and watches Gandalf gather the cut off pieces with magic and tie into a bag neatly and tidily. Gandalf does not explain and she does not ask, though she had nearly forgotten the color of her hair and drinks in the golden shade greedily. In all of her new knowledge, there has been nothing like her hair, no shade as rich, nothing as textured. Many of the people in Dale are dark-haired with a few exceptions, such as Fili or Gloin, or those who have grayed. And Fili might be the only one with hair near a shade such as hers.  

Gandalf soon prompts her to stand, and she realizes that they are now moving to the portion that she had been most dreading: dancing. He does a complicated motion with his hand and music starts playing from somewhere— which really impresses Bil— but the lesson progresses better than she had expected. She’s still not sure she likes dancing, but Bil finds that she is much more graceful than she had first expected of herself. When he leaves, she’s almost sorry to see him go, but that is for reasons other than the dancing lessons.  

He still reminds her of Mother, uncomfortably so. She’s not even sure of what it is that resembles each other so much, as it isn’t physical, but there’s something about them. But, Bil decides, she likes Gandalf because he helps her believe in herself a little more, has planted a wistful seed that she could be important, that she could be an important person to those who are important to her. And, finally, that she could be important to those who are far above her own station.

 

 

It takes her a few days to have time to talk to Ori alone, to do as Gloin had asked of her. It is in the morning, Dori out to run some early errands and Nori is around, but sleeping incredibly late— as is his wont. They are in the kitchen, Bil slathering peach jam on a slice of bread and all but shoving it into her mouth as she sips at her scalding tea. Ori is much more courteous than she, nibbling at his bread and jam, as well as bothering to put it down before he inhales the scent of her herbal tea before taking a careful sip. Each sip is followed by a blissful smile, his kind face lit up.  

She can see what Dwalin would like about Ori, especially when he pauses to look at her with wide, quizzical eyes.  

“Is something the matter, Bil?”  

“So, this midwinter festival thing— do you typically have a date?”  

“Sometimes, sometimes not. It depends on the person, I suppose.”  

“And you?” She’s not really good at subtlety; maybe she should have told Gloin that she had never exactly picked up on that trait in the months she’s been around people.  

He blushes and stumbles through an explanation, “Ah, n-n-n-o, not rea _lly_ , D-dori and N-n-nori have, b-but I have n-not” and gives up by taking a sip of tea.  

“If Dwalin asked you,” Bil starts, watching the fine trembles that suddenly start in his hands. “Would you say yes?”  

He sets the cup upon the saucer, his blush deepening and spreading, but his words are clear, if soft. “I don’t see how that’s your business.”  

Which is as good as a yes, really, coming from Ori. “So you would?”  

He stares at her, holding her gaze before he drops it to his the deep brown liquid of his tea. There’s still a slight wisp of steam coming off it. “Probably. I’m not sure. My brothers don’t approve of him.”  

Shoving the last piece of crust into her mouth, she rests her newly free hand on his shoulder. “To put their disapproval into perspective, Nori dislikes him because he’s a guard and Dori can be an over-protective fool.”  

“But, Bil, they’re my family.”  

Bil regards Ori, the battle on his face because he is so unable to keep anything away from the curve of his mouth, the lines around his eyes. “My Mother,” she says slowly, “never wanted me to leave the Tower and she’s the only family I have. Had, now, I hope, but Ori sometimes what your family wants for you isn’t what is best for you.”  

He blinks at her. “Oh, Bil, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring her up in any way and yes, of course, it’s had, you’re family now.” His smile is tremulous. “The sister I always wanted.”  

“And,” Bil says smartly, putting her quarter-full tea cup on the counter. “The only one with any sense in this apartment. Heed my advice, yes, Ori?”  

“I’ll think about it some more,” is all he promises, and she supposes that’s going to be as good as she gets it. “Who told you about the midwinter festival and having a date, by the way? Or,” his eyebrows frown deeply, “about Dwalin?”  

“Ah, just, you know, heard it around,” she lies, near positive that Gloin would definitely frown on Bil telling Ori about his asking for her help. “But have to go now, Bofur’s waiting for me! See you later, have fun at your apprenticeship, the like.”  

“Bil—” He sounds confused, but it’s likely he’ll forget all about their conversation that night when they have dinner. He’s also not likely to bring it up at dinner, with Dori and Nori around. More like the thought won’t even cross his mind.  

She’s out the door before Ori can call her one more time, shoving her arms into her coat as she traipses down the stairs. When she opens the door to the street, a sharp wind blows past her, but Bil has become accustomed enough to the cold, and she does a small snap to heat her coat up, to keep her extra toasty. Bofur told her seriously that they keel the stall upon all winter long, and that it would be okay if she wanted to take a break during the cold season, but she had waved his concerns off without a thought. She can’t explain it to him, but her magic will help keep her from getting frostbite. Just a regular snap and her shoes will be warm, another to keep her coat warm. It’s just too bad that she can’t do it for Bofur, because she’s positive that he would appreciate the help.  

During her lunch break today she stops by the guards, snapping a piece of paper into her hands and stopping by another stall to discreetly ink a note to Gloin that she has the information he wants and that she wants to talk to him in person. He comes near dusk, though dusk isn’t really all that late considering the diminished daylight hours of winter.  

“You wanted to speak?”  

“Bofur, I’m going to have a quick chat with Gloin. You don’t mind, do you?”  

He grins easily at her and waves her off affably. “Of course not, lad, take a break. Today is especially chilly.” It is, though she mostly only notices because there is not much she can do to keep the tip of her nose warm.  

She smiles widely at Bofur and then starts walking down the street, turning back to make sure Gloin is following her. “Ori,” Bil says slowly, watching how Gloin shortens his stride to allow them to walk comfortably next to each other. “Most likely has feelings for Dwalin, but he has two over-protective brothers. He has never thought about any potential relationship with him, mostly because he knows both Dori and Nori would do all they could to keep anyone they don’t approve of away from him.”  

They continue walking a bit, their breath frosting in the air. “Dwalin is a respected member of the King’s Guard. I don’t see why they would consider him inappropriate.”  

She snorts. “Mister Gloin, I fear I may not have been clear enough. They will never approve of anyone for their youngest brother. No one will ever be good enough.”  

Gloin hums, a deep grumble. “I see young Ori’s problem.”  

“I have convinced Ori to think more carefully about this and if Mister Dwalin would talk to him in, say, a few days he would be more inclined to agree.”  

“Dwalin does not take any chance, no matter how far the odds are in his favor.”  

“I doubt that love,” Bil says, her tone more terse than she had originally intended it to be, “will ever be a one hundred percent deal. Mister Dwalin will have to take his odds, for they are as good as anyone can make them. All of which was done,” she raises her eyebrow. “Without much of his input.”  

Gloin stops walking and Bil pauses as well, turning so their eyes meet. “You want something.”  

“Yes, I do,” she starts, carefully picking through her word choices. “Though not right now. I want a favor. From both of you, or just Mister Dwalin if you don’t feel so obligated.”  

“That is a heavy price.”  

She tilts her head and smiles, as innocently as she can make herself do so. It’s a pretty good innocent smile if she says so herself, because she hasn’t quite learned how to make herself smile devilishly yet. “You’re asking me to, very nearly, betray the brothers who took me in off the streets, feed me, clothed me. I don’t think it is so heavy a price. And, Mister Gloin, you say that as though I’m going to cash in for all the gems in the world. I assure you, it will not be nearly as bad as you think.”  

He nods after a few moments, and Bil feels secure. She’s not sure how she will cash in on this favor yet, but as someone who has created an unconscious habit of taking food from stalls without paying, who has stolen clothes, the favor of a guard will serve her well. “There will be limits on what we can do, but we will try and help you any way we can.”  

“I appreciate your assistance. Now, Mister Gloin, I should return to Bofur. I have a business to help.”  

Gloin smiles at her and appraises her. “I continue to misjudge you, lad. You are far more quick-witted than I gave you credit for.”  

“You said so already.”  

“I may have,” he says, shaking his head. “But I still give you less credit than you deserve.”  

Bil smiles softly at him. “I am not as smart as you seem to think I am, Mister Gloin. I just know desperation.”


	10. Chapter 10

Gandalf is quick to figure out that Bil is a girl, and it is not through some big slip-up on her part. He somehow just picks it up, from standing close to her, watching her movements, and he tells her as though it’s no big deal.

“I assume it was Dori’s idea,” he says, without any other sort of preamble, right in the middle of leading Bil around the room in a waltz. At her confused look, he smiles enigmatically at her. Nearly all of his smiles are like that, or at least all the ones he has whenever she asks a question. “Your cross-dressing, that is.”

She thinks about playing innocent, pretending that she truly is a boy, but the idea slips through her mind almost as soon as it arrives. “He thought it’d be safer, though I personally find life easier as a male in Dale. Less restrictive, especially concerning clothes.”

“Have you been scampering around a bit then?” Gandalf asks with a raised eyebrow as he slowly gives her a whirl. She’s gotten much better at dancing, and has proven herself as a somewhat natural to her dismay. Most of their lessons have been spent teaching her the rudiments of all the different dances likely to be played at the festival.

She’s as careful with her next words as she is with her step. “Master Gandalf, were you aware that it was Nori who found me?”

“Ah,” Gandalf says, the music playing in the background dimming. “That explains quite a bit, actually. More than you are most likely aware of.”

“Such as?”

“If you work for free for Bofur, then how did you afford the clothes you are currently wearing?”

“How do you know they were not a present from one of the brothers?”

“Ori has not the money, Dori does not care for the color blue over much, and Nori would never think of clothes as a present.” His eyes twinkle as they step apart, Bil bowing as she had been taught.

“Mayhap it was a gift from all three?”

“Or mayhap you thieved it.”

“Why, Master Gandalf, that would make me a criminal,” she replies and is unable to keep the mischievous smile off her face. “Is that what you are suggesting?”

“No such thing,” Gandalf reassures. “I care little either way, though do be careful of poor Dori’s nerves. I’m not sure how he stands Nori stealing, I don’t think he’d be too happy knowing how much you do as well.”

“I keep my more illicit activities as far away from his ears as I possibly can,” she assures him.

Gandalf speaks after a few moments, surveying her in a way that used to make her uncomfortable, but seems natural now. “That was our last dance of the day.”

“Was it? I shall see you tomorrow then.”

“Not quite. Now that you have a basic knowledge of all the dances, I will have you attend my general dancing classes so you can dance with a variety of partners and so I shall need to give you directions to my academy.”

She stares at him. “Mister Gandalf, my skills are not up to par with anyone’s enough to actually dance with them. Surely I am not ready.”

“Bil, I think you would be surprised by how poor some people are at dancing. Take, for example, Guardsmen Dwalin. He is quite a poor dancer. He knows the steps, just can’t quite execute them.”

The blood drains from her face. “Mister Dwalin? He’s taking your lessons?”

“Yes, he is,” Gandalf says, peering into her face. “He will not find out any of your secrets, Bil.”

She stares at him, her heart slowly beating faster. “To what are you referring? I have only one secret, Mister Gandalf.”

“That of your sex?”

“Of course.”

He hums. “Bil, I think you are hiding far more than you are telling, and it is mostly my respect of privacy that I am not attempting to pull any of them out of you.”

Fear runs down her spine at his tone and she wills her toes and fingers to not curl and her stomach to not roil quite so much. This is Gandalf, after all. He is not a scary person. “Your respect for my privacy shall continue, for my secrets are none of your concern or business.”

“I am afraid that the secret about your background might concern me more than you know, but that is for another day.”

“I should hope so. Will you be writing your directions down, or do you trust my mental capacity enough to recall them on my own?”

“You are quite cheeky, are you not.” Gandalf smiles at her. “I think I might trust your mental capacity to make it there by virtue of the address alone. Does that restore some of your faith in me?”

She smiles back at him, tilting her head sideways the slightest. “Slightly. What’s the address then?”

“It is on Bockers, near the intersection with Landion. It’s the only studio in the area.”

“I know the location,” she lies. She knows of Bockers, but has not heard much of Landion. She will have to ask one of the brothers later. “I shall see you there tomorrow, for the group lesson.”

“Yes, and do not be late.”

“Mister Gandalf, I always arrive the exact minute I mean to.”

His smile softens. “I believe I have grown quite fond of you.”

She gazes at him quizzically. “And you say this why? I’m almost afraid you consider it a bad thing.”

“As with most things, it could be, but it could also be good. I shall see you on the morrow.”

“Goodbye Mister Gandalf.”

He ducks through the archway of the door and she watches him leave. Bil always knew he was strange, but today he was stranger than normal and she stands for a few minutes, staring at the apex of the arch, pondering this. He knows she’s a she, figured out that she thieves and knows she is carrying secrets like she’s pregnant. There’s her magic, and she can feel the tips of her fingers tingle when the thought of magic avails itself in her mind. It is always aching to be used, to warm the apartment, her clothes, pull, lift, deceive. There are more secrets, like Thorin, and they all weigh heavier with the awareness that Gandalf knows she has these secrets. Even if he does not know the contents of her secrets, he knows they exist and that is enough to make them heavy.

Ever since meeting Thorin, they pile and pile on top of each other. She wonders how many secrets Mother kept from her other than her magic, if any.

“Bil! It’s been a while.”

She snaps out of it, her gaze dropping to see Nori and a grin spreads wide across her face as she rushes forward to hug him. “Nori! I missed you, as always.”

“I won’t be gone much from now until the festival,” Nori says, chuckling as he hugs Bil tightly back. “It’s a little less than a week away, so I don’t exactly have the time for going on a lark.”

Bil eyes him, stepping back and crossing her arms. “Larks, Nori? You consider them larks? Dori nearly kills himself with worry every night you’re gone, so I’m sure they are more important than mere larks. You never tell me what it is you do.”

“Banditry,” he smirks crookedly, ruffling her hair. “And the like. Terrible stuff, really, shouldn’t be heard by ladies. Might cause some fainting or the like.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not a lady,” she says, rolling her eyes and trotting after him as he goes to the kitchen.

“Dori and Ori are both out, then?”

“Yes, Ori is at his apprenticeship and Dori is doing some shopping.”

“Good, good...” He trails off as he gazes around the room. “The place isn’t bugged, right? You’d know, what with your magic and all.” He snaps to demonstrate and her eyebrows pull together in confusion.

“Why would the apartment be bugged? Nori, are you planning something?”

He grins at her. “You got your hair cut recently, didn’t you? I liked it long.”

“I looked girly with it long.”

Reaching across, Nori pulls on a forefront curl. “Well, you _are_ a girl.”

Bil brushes his hand away irritatedly. “Who dresses as a man, which makes looking girly not the most fortunate thing in the world. I’d rather not be discovered.”

Nori regards her for a moment, before throwing an arm around her shoulders and pulls her along with him into dining room. “I have a proposal for you, lad,” he says, glancing through the archways, most likely out of paranoia. Bil takes a seat when he goes into the kitchen and watches him stick his head out the window before securely locking it with bemusement.

“Does it necessitate such... secrecy?” she asks, eyebrows drawing together.

“Yes, it does,” Nori says heavily, pulling a chair up to sit opposite her. “This proposal is very serious, but I trust you.”

“You do?” Bil asks, unable to stop the blush of pleasure and smile that trembles on her face. That is, quite possibly, the biggest compliment Bil has ever received.

“Yes, I do,” Nori says, smiling and reaching across to take her hands. “And that’s why I’m inviting you to join me and a few others for a lark in Erebor.”

Bil stares at him blankly. “What? I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand,” she says, gripping his hands tightly so he can’t slip them out of hers. “You want to go burgling in Erebor? Is that what you’re saying?”

Nori gives her his crooked grin, the one that makes her think that he is one of the most dashing men she has ever seen and she is so glad that it was him that found her. He has become the best brother possible. “Something along those lines. You in?”

She frowns. “But— Nori, why Erebor? Aren’t there plenty of folk in Dale to burgle from?”

His hands slip out from hers more easily than she should have let them. “Erebor is the juiciest plum in the land. No one has successfully stolen from Erebor.”

“Oh,” she says, face crumpling in her understanding. “It’s not about taking what you need, but taking because you want to be famous.”

“Bilba, lass, don’t say it like that,” Nori murmurs to her, still smiling at her. “It will be an undertaking of a lifetime; you should feel quite honored that I’m asking you out of all the people I could ask.”

“Why _me_ , though? I’m a novice, I only do light lifting and only take what I need. I don’t...” She makes a helpless gesture with her hands. “I don’t do anything serious.”

“What you do would still earn you time behind bars, despite your guard friends,” Nori reminds her, but leans back thoughtfully. “I want your help, lass, because you are light-footed. You are quieter than any of my friends and, besides,” he shrugs. “You’re magic. That counts for a lot.”

“Are there no other magician-thieves?”

Nori sighs deeply and makes to stand up, placing his hands on his knees and leaning forward. “That’s a no, then, is it. I’m disappointed in you Bil, I really am. A lifetime opportunity and you want me to find someone else. I was hoping,” oh dear, there’s a gleam in his eye and that is most surely not a good sign, “to do this with you. No one else will do.”

That’s why there was a gleam. These are magic words for Bil, and Nori knows it. She glares at him. “I’ll do it,” she mumbles, chest aching at wanting to be needed.

“That’s my girl,” Nori cries, leaping up and picking her up. She squawks, but she secretly enjoys it and eventually laughs.

“Nori, put me down,” she says as he spins around with her held above. “I’m not a child.”

“You are still my little sister,” he says, but he sets her down carefully.

Bil knows that her cheeks pinken, but she can’t feel it because of her wide, wide smile. “Thanks, Nori.”

“Thank _you_ ,” Nori corrects, ruffling her hair. “I’m gathering a few more people, but this lark will get rolling after the festival. We have enough regard for them to leave their festival alone.”

  
  
  
Bil forgot to get directions from the brothers, but she afforded herself plenty of time to make her way, following the street signs as faithfully as she can. She’s been on Bockers for a while now, but she figures that if she follows the road for long enough, she’ll find Landion. It can’t be that hard, and in the meantime she stops to lift some biscuits and then a sausage from some stalls she passes. The soup coming from one of the stalls smells delicious, but the thought of figuring out how to get the soup into the bowl, take a spoon and bring it all towards her is exhausting so she dismisses it.

The biscuits are cold, the sausage is just as cold. The air is chilly, and Bil is starting to lose sense in the tips of her ears and the tip of her nose due to the cold. She’s not looking forward to these new dancing lessons, and she has started to dislike all the banners and signs strewn around Dale proclaiming a countdown to the festival. She doesn’t mind the dancing so much as the thought of who she’ll have to dance with. It’s fine with Gandalf, but she’s expecting that she’ll have to dance with strangers. Bil doesn’t even know if she’ll be dancing with girls and boys from what she’s heard of it.

The only good things so far is the increased business at Bofur’s stall and the soft smile Bil had seen on Ori’s face when he came home the other day, a hint of success with his suitor.

Sighing, Bil stands while rubbing her hands. Today she’ll have to face Dwalin, good or bad. She tries to keep herself brave as she continues down Bonkers until, at last, she hits the intersection of Landion and from there it’s a minor walk to the studio Gandalf was talking about. She’s hesitant as she walks up to the door, knuckles soft on the wooden door, and when it swings abruptly open, she tries not to flinch.

“Ah, Bil, you’re here.” It’s Gandalf’s cheery voice and she forces herself to relax as she smiles at him.

“Yes. I’m not too early, am I?”

“No, of course not,” Gandalf reassures her with a smile that always seems more kindly than others through the beard. “Come on in.”

Bil toes her way in, eyes darting about the room. Behind Gandalf is a large room with a high ceiling. The floor is pale, paneled wood and windows go from the middle of the wall to the top, allowing the studio to be filled with natural light. It’s almost relaxing, but then she spies Dwalin on the side, arms crossed and legs akimbo, and moves as quietly as she can to where she hopes he can’t see her.

He’s terrifying. It’s not just that she’s on edge around him because he’s a guard, but he is the most unapproachable person in the world she has ever seen. It’s not the bald pate that gets to her so much as the tattoos, and it’s not the heaviness of his body but how he carries himself as though expecting an attack from every angle. Bill hasn’t seen him often, but she still remembers the feeling of being around him— it was as though he were one of those men Mother would warn her about and she was prey. It’s like he’s a wolf and she nothing but a small rabbit without any sort of protection, the fluff of her tail tickling his snout.

And, Bil has figured out, a lack of protection, a lack of a buffer, terrifies her like nothing else.

There are other people in the room; Bil edges towards them as best she can, but Gandalf ends up pairing her with Dwalin when he starts the lesson, that damned enigmatic smile once again playing at his lips.

“But we’re both men,” Bil hastily says as soon as she can, still as far from Dwalin as she can stay without being conspicuous.

“Now, Bil,” Gandalf says reprovingly. “There are not enough ladies and it is important to know both parts of dancing to better lead or be led. You will each take turns at leading?”

Oh, _no_ , Bil is expected to take a turn leading Dwalin? He’s at least... She eyes him dubiously. She’s not sure, exactly, but he’s a head or two (or three) above her and it is not going to go well. He eyes her back and she can see scorn in his eye already, and that makes her straighten her spine. “Right, then,” she mumbles to herself and walks smartly to him. “We’ve met before,” she says, lifting her chin. It’s either from pride or because he’s so tall— she’d like to claim the former but it’s more an even split between the two.

“I don’t remember,” he replies gruffly.

“I was with Ori.” He still doesn’t remember and she purses her lips. “I live with his family, actually. The brothers have taken me in.”

Now he remembers her and she wants to punch him with a little magical help. “Ah, the abused lad.”

“I was not abused,” she says frostily. “Gloin hasn’t talked of me?”

He wrinkles his nose and holds his hands out, and Bil waits a moment to let him sense her hesitancy to be led. “Gloin knows you?” He grabs her hand, thoughtlessly nearly crushing it, another landing heavily at her waist.

“Lighten your grip,” she hisses after a wince. “My hand is not the hilt of a sword and more liable to break.” He looks startled and loosens his grip to being too loose and she sighs and gives up. “And yes, I know Gloin, I am the one who helped with Ori.” Her tone hints that he owes her, but she doesn’t have much faith in his sense of subtlety.

It is now that Gandalf snaps and gets the beat started. Previously there had been no music but now there are faint strains of music, of stringed instruments, wind instruments and a drum somewhere deep in the background. Almost immediately, from habit, Bil’s feet start to move and Dwalin steps on her feet. He grumbles an apology, no reply to what she said earlier as he focuses all his attention on his feet.

Dwalin, she soon discovers, is a terrible dancer. He looks down the entire time, and starts to squeeze her hand too tightly. It takes all the patience Bil has learned from waiting for Mother to return to not snap and tell him to bloody look up. When the song ends, she rips her hand from his grip and flexes it. There are marks from his hands and she really hopes they don’t become bruises. How could she explain?

Closing her eyes and counting to ten, she opens her eyes back up to see Dwalin purposefully not looking in her direction. “Mister Dwalin,” she says slowly, now a lot less scared of him than before. “Would I be correct in assuming that you’re learning how to dance for Ori?”

He settles his eyes on her in a glare. “No.”

“What reason other than wanting to dance with another would you, who has abysmal coordination, be taking dancing lessons?”

“My coordination is not abysmal,” he growls, bushy eyebrows lowering.

“Yes it is,” she hisses. “You continuously stare at your feet instead of paying any attention to your partner and I’m going to be black and blue before this lesson is over. What have you been doing this whole time?”

His eyebrows lower further but finally they return to normal and he looks aways, as though in embarrassment. “Do you have tips for me, then? Or will you criticize me without telling me how to improve?”

“I believe I did,” Bil says, a tad acidly. “Stop looking down and learn how to hold someone without hurting them. Start there and we’ll see what else you need.”

He nods shortly. “Don’t tell Ori,” Dwalin adds after a few moments, right before Gandalf restarts the music, walking around the room.

She smiles wryly. “After convincing him to disregard his brothers? I don’t think I could.” His head drops to stare at his feet and Bil purposefully stands on his feet for a moment. She’s small enough to do so and he looks up in surprise. “Stop looking down,” she murmurs. “And if you hurt him, I will tell Dori and Nori.”

“You mean more than by dancing with him, I suppose?”

“I told him he should go for it,” Bil barks, “so if he ends up regretting you, it is my fault that he is hurt. I trust Gloin, but not so much you.”

Dwalin’s gaze softens as the music starts again. He immediately looks down and she kicks his shin lightly in reminder. He glances up quickly, but the entire dance is a game of seeing how long he can last without looking down at his feet. His grip is almost as tight as before, but now and then he gentles his grip. Most likely because he’s not staring at his feet and can see the grimaces of pain on her face.

“That was better,” she sighs, massaging her hand tiredly. “But you need to make it habit not to look.”

“Thank you,” Dwalin mumbles after a few moments as she continues to return healthy circulation to her hand. “For your help with Ori. Gloin told me he was putting his faith in someone he trusts, but I was not aware it was you.”

“You are also going to owe me for the dancing tips,” she says lightly. “How about I lead this time, show you how it’s done?”

Dwalin looks aggravated at the thought, but acquiesces soon enough and looks thoughtful after a couple dances of her leading. When it is his turn again, he improves yet again and she wonders what it was she did to make him do so much better, but he bolts out the door the moment Gandalf announces the lesson over. She stares after him, perplexed, wriggling her fingers to help against the imminent pain and perhaps muscle lock.

“I think I chose the perfect partner for him,” Gandalf says, suddenly behind her. “You’ll do him a world of wonder with his dancing.”

“He’s like an ox,” she grumbles darkly. “He has no sense of rhythm and his coordination is terrible. I don’t know how he’s a high ranking guard.”

“Fighting and dancing are different arts, requiring different sense of coordination,” Gandalf tells her mildly.

She sighs and turns to glance at him. “I assume that tomorrow we’ll be here again and that I’ll be partnered with Dwalin yet again.”

Gandalf smiles at her, that twinkle appearing. “You are quite perceptive, aren’t you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyone see where this is going??? next chapter will be the start of the festival yay
> 
> sorry for the late update as well, but I'll hopefully be more regular from now on xx


	11. Chapter 11

Teaching Dwalin how to dance quickly becomes a labor of love. Bil learns the tells of when Dwalin is about to make a mistake and, after a few days, starts to show improvement. Bil wants to take majority of the credit, but is gracious and defers most of it to Gandalf. She focuses as much as she can when helping Bofur, but the approaching festival starts clouding her mind more and more.

She has learned to dance and, against all the odds and her stubbornness, she has learned to love it. It is a pattern to be followed and when completed, an art accomplished. Bil doesn’t let on, but she is sure Gandalf notices. Dwalin eventually picks up how to dance passably; Bil might say they even strike up a sort of friendship. He still occasionally refers to her ‘abusive past’ but she dismisses it each time.

Nori does not tell her any details about his Erebor plan, and Bil soon forgets her promise.

When the festival is the next day, Bil is a bundle of nerves. She’s not nervous about the dancing part; she has faith in herself. She’s not worried about the crowds of people, nor about being caught. She’s nervous because Bofur has just told her that the princes were attending. Which means she’ll be seeing Thorin, as well as his nephews, for the first time since long, long ago.

She is no longer the same lonely girl in the Tower. Bil doesn’t need them anymore, but somehow she craves them. She craves their presence, the sight of their smiles and the deep bass of Thorin’s voice. She wants to see her saviors faces and finally learn the color of their eyes. But she’s now a thief, acting as a man, and they probably don’t even remember. The last time she had seen Thorin, he had promised he would do anything to help her. She wonders if that would extend to pardoning an innocent girl, turned thief.

“Are you sure?” She persistently asks Bofur. “All three will be there?”

Bofur raises an eyebrow. “Yes, apparently it’s been a last minute change. Typically they don’t come to Dale for the festivities and only attend the Erebor festival, but Bombur’s sworn up and down that they’re coming tomorrow. I think it’ll be great fun,” he finishes with his wide, trademark smile.

Bil swallows. “Oh. I see.”

The smile dims. “You don’t seem happy, lad. The three are all good men, or so Bombur says. Apparently Fili’s quite a troublemaker, though Kili’s worse than his brother.”

“I’m sure they’re wonderful,” Bil says with a forced smile. She doesn’t tell Bofur she already knew that and pushes the memory of watching them wrestle in the grass away.

When she gets home in the early evening, after an early dismissal for being ‘distracted’ by Bofur, Dori is poised in wait for her. She eyes him warily.

“Your clothes for tomorrow are laid out on your bed,” he proclaims. “You are not to fight them, but to wear them.”

“It’s not a dress, is it?”

Dori scoffs. “I have less chance of getting you into a dress as I do Nori to stop his nonsense. It’s not a dress.”

She sighs in relief, though the tension from thinking about Thorin and tomorrow do not leave her body. “I don’t mind, as long as it’s not a dress. I’m— I’m not ready, not yet.”

Dori looks at her speculatively. “A dress does not mean a cage, Bil. A dress can mean freedom in its own way.”

The words hit the bullseye on Bil’s heart. “One day, I will be. But not yet Dori, not yet.”

He sighs, takes the few steps between them and envelops her in a warm, gruff hug. “We’ll be here for you, dear. We’ll always be here for you.”

This— this is all to much for her, and she wriggles out of Dori’s grasp. “Thank you,” she murmurs, not quite able to look him in the eye and escapes to her room.

On her bed is a shirt and trouser pair made of soft linen in a delicate blue and black. They are finer than anything Bil has taken on her own, as well as the heavy, down jacket laid down next to them. Her fingers brush over the fabric carefully, then picks it up. It’s a little heavy, and Bil tries putting it on. It’s warm and Bil really shouldn’t be so surprised by that, but these are gifts. They aren’t bolts of cloth given to her for her to make her own clothes. She can imagine Dori talking with Ori about what colors would be best and then the two of them shopping for cloth together, bickering over the type they preferred.

It is more than she can accept. Still wearing the coat, she goes to the living area where Dori is reading. “I— I can’t take these.”

Dori smiles at her. “I said not to fight them. You should know how stubborn we three are, especially when it comes to gifts.”

“But Dori— it must be expensive, this jacket is so soft and warm, and I can’t— I can’t accept them.”

“Bil, come sit next to me,” Dori commands, setting his book aside and patting the spot next to him on the couch and she takes it. The coat is a little puffy and poofs somewhat when she sits down. “You have struggled a long time,” he starts, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “And you have been wonderful to have around. You see things differently and you genuinely want us to be happy, but you balk when we try and do something for you. Let us.”

“I’ve never received clothes before,” she whispers.

“You will have more important firsts than these, Bilba, dear. Accept the gift and know we will be happier if you wear it happily than if you keep it to merely look at it.”

“I don’t know how to repay you.”

“There is nothing to repay. Gifts are things freely given, with no expectation of receiving something in return. Take it, with our love.”

Bil has no words; she hugs him tightly and for a good long while. She slowly pulls away and, feeling much calmer than earlier, returns to her room. She might not quite be ready for tomorrow, at the possibility of seeing Thorin again, but at least she goes with support.

  
  
  
  


Dori is in the lead, Nori behind him and Ori is gripping her hand tightly as he keeps on casting looks he probably thinks are sneaky around the Square.

“He’s not here yet,” she hisses at him. “Stop looking around like that, it’s suspicious.”

Ori swallows and tightens his grip even further. She tries not to wince and ignores the pain to continue staring around. The Square has been decorated beautifully; there are elegant streamers hanging to and from nearly everything and there are tables set up around the perimeter that are currently empty, but Bil knows that food is to be brought out later. On a stage across from them, is a band playing a lively tune. It is late morning and it is sunny, though they can see their breath with almost every exhale.

“What do we do now?” She asks curiously, as Dori skirts them around the perimeter of the circle. “Where are we going?”

“We need to register with the Lord,” Ori whispers back. “It’s a fellow who goes by Bard. A good fellow, really, though sometimes he’s a bit dramatic.”

Bil nods, thinking. So they have a Lord? She’s surprised she didn’t really know, but if she thinks further, she never really asked. It makes sense, somehow; Dale should have their own representation when dealing with the Ereboreans. Bil does not envy this Bard his job.

“He’s there,” Ori suddenly says, yanking on her hand. “He’s in line Bil, what do I do? What about Dori and— I’m sure Nori’s watching from somewhere, he’s always watching, and he’ll find out, and then Dori’l find out—”

His voice escalates and Bil claps a hand over his mouth to shut him up. It’s gross for a moment and the scrape of Ori’s beard on her hand is odd, but he soon quietens down. “Breathe deeply for me, would you?” She asks, removing her hand slowly. “In and out, okay? Everything will be fine, lovely even. Dori will not find out if you keep calm and Nori has been busy with his own thing and I doubt he’s even here.”

Ori takes a few deep breaths, but soon regresses to shallow ones. “Are you absolutely positive?”

“Do you trust me?” Putting her hands on either side of his face, Bil stares at him. “I will get Dori distracted and you will slip away. You are to have the time of your life with someone you care very much for and someone who cares very, very much about you.”

“He— he does?” Bil would think he’s blushing, but the air is chilly enough that the reddened ears could be from that.

“Yes. He does.” After a few moments, Ori nods decisively.

“I trust you.”

“Thank you,” Bil replies with a wide smile. “And you look wonderful, really, you do.”

This is a blush, a shy one with a ducked head and a hand reflexively smoothing back hair hidden under a woolen cap. “You look even better. I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it,” she whispers, nudging him slightly. “I honestly can’t thank you enough.”

Ori’s smile is genuine and it warms Bil’s heart.

“Bil, please,” Dori interrupts, a hand beckoning her towards him. “I’d like to introduce you to Bard.” Startled, she steps forward with what is most likely a guilty expression on her face.

Bard is tall with dark, wavy hair brushing his shoulders. His eyes are kind, though, and the smile on his face helps her feel not quite so anxious. “Bil, is it? It’s nice to meet you, lad. My son looks around your age. How old are you?”

“Oh, uh, nice to meet you too, sir? And I’m twenty. Sir.”

He laughs; Bil struggles not to blush from embarrassment. “You can call me Bard. I’ve never been one for unnecessary formalities. My son’s name is Bain, and I’ll have him introduce you to some ladies you might be interested in.”

Bil wants to protest, that no such thing is necessary, but Dori’s hand lands heavy on her shoulder. She swallows the complaint and nods with a smile and an extended hand as Bain approaches. He looks like his father; their hair is similar and they both have bright eyes. “It’s nice to meet you, Bain. I’m Bil.”

Bain nods, shooting a glance at his father. “He’s tiny,” he leans in to whisper, but Bil still hears him.

“I’m twenty,” she says loudly, holding her head high and withdrawing her hand. “And though I might look young, at least I have manners.”

Bain looks affronted, but Bard laughs. “Sigrid will like him, don’t you think? Go on and introduce him to some girls, son.”

“Is Ori coming with?” She asks Dori quietly. Dori looks torn; Bil is positive that he’d rather keep Ori by his side under his hawk’s eye, so she employs a dirty tactic. “You know, I’ve not met many other people, much less girls, and…” She trails off and looks down. A hand goes up to rub at her neck. “I’d feel better with Ori, you know?”

He still looks like he doesn’t want to let Ori leave his sight ever, but acquiesces with a sigh. “Fine.”

Bil sends a wink to Ori, who hastens to catch up with her and Bain as they briskly start walking away. She dodges around swirling skirts and flaring jackets as he cuts through a portion of the dancers, nearly running into him when he stops. Ori does run into her, pushing both of them into Bain.  
  
“Sorry,” she says as she scrambles to right herself, righting her clothes and so on. Ori does the same.

Bain looks aggrieved and Bil narrows her eyes. “If we’re such a burden to you,” she snaps. “Then feel free to leave us. I’m sure we’re out of Bard’s sight and that you’re capable of creating a lie to get yourself out of trouble. So, please, stop troubling yourself and go on.”

“Bil,” Ori hisses at her. “Don’t be so rude.”

“I doubt he cares,” Bil retorts, staring Bain down. He’s shocked, that’s very clear with his wide eyes and slightly agape mouth. “I’d rather not meet anyone than have a forced introduction.”

“Bil,” Ori hisses a warning again, but Bain hold his hands up.

“No, no, it’s my fault, my fault entirely. An apology is in order, I think. I’m sorry Bil, Ori. I was rude. My father is— he’s a good man, you should know. A wonderful leader, and he tries very hard at being as good at parenting as leading.” He smiles slop-sided.

Parenting. “Your mother, is she dead?” She quietly asks. Bain nods sharply. “Well, I don’t have any, not really,” she says briskly and extends her hand. “Let’s have a start-over, shall we?”

Bain’s smile is partly thankful, partly something else and shakes her hand. “I’m Bain. And, by the way, my father probably didn’t tell you, but I’m barely fifteen.”

  
  
  
  


Bil is introduced to ladies and takes a few of them to dance. She was so worried about not being good enough, but the girls are eager to meet someone new and chatter and chatter and chatter away. Her worries disappear, they flutter away and it isn’t long before she realizes she is having an honestly wonderful time. She goes from partner to partner, feet tapping at the beats when she takes a break, and meets people upon people as she nibbles and drinks.

“Are you okay?” Ori asks her as she’s taking another break, legs splayed in front of her. “You look a little… How much have you had to drink?”

“Oh, stop your worrying, dear Ori,” she laughs, swinging an arm around his shoulders. She’s not sure she’s ever been happier in her life than at this moment, her adopted brother at her side, dancing to come with more food and more drink. “I bet you’re just all tense and nervous because of Mr Big and Muscly, aren’t you?”

“I wouldn’t— I wouldn’t call him big,” Ori mutters.

“So you would call him muscly?”

“I— I don’t— well, what about you? You’ve been dancing quite a bit with Sigrid, haven’t you? She’s more your age, and lovely to boot.”

Bil’s giddiness fadens and then leaves her. “I— if I did want something, I couldn’t. We’ve been talking. She wants a full wedding, garlands strung about and a bouquet of roses in her hands. And children. She loves children.” She sighs, shoulders falling forward and pushes thoughts of deep voices and playing in the grass away. “It’s all a lie.”

“Bil,” Ori breathes, aghast. “It’s not a lie. Your friendship with them is real, and some day they might want something more, but for today you are all friends. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so happy.”

“Oh, Ori,” she murmurs. “This is quite possibly the happiest day of my life.”

“So don’t think such maudlin things, and— Bil, he’s here, he’s…”

Bil blinks and straightens. Maybe she’s feeling a little down, but now is the time to help Ori be happy. With this in mind, she stands and surveys the crowds, Ori nudging her in the right direction. “I’ll go get him here, so deep breaths, okay? Breathe deeply. This is a good thing, and though Dori and Nori might not think it’s for the best, I do and you do, and I shouldn’t be telling you this, but Gloin approached me to help and this I really shouldn’t be saying, but Dwalin was taking dancing lessons.” Leaning down, she presses a quick kiss to his cheek. “He’ll be here soon.”

Ori blinks at her, looking a little dazed, and she leaves him like that as she weaves her way through the crowd to get to Dwalin. “Hello,” she says when she gets to him and then grins wildly. “You look positively green,” she declares gleefully. “Just look at you.”

“Shut up,” he growls, but it lacks any sort of bite after all the dancing lessons they had.

“I shan’t,” she claims, but does and is soon leading him to Ori’s bench. “He’s over there, see? Sitting down, at that bench,” she points. “And I know you know this already, but be careful of the brothers. Dori believes Ori is with me and I don’t believe Nori is present, but still. Be careful, I want Ori to be happy.”

“Of course I’ll be careful.”

Bil eyes him. “One last thing, Dwalin, sir. I know I’m not much of a threat; I’m small, weak and am generally not intimidating in the slightest, not like you. I also know that you do care for him, that you want to impress him, but Ori is delicate. I need you to be careful or I will hound you for the rest of your life.”

Dwalin stares at her blankly, but then slowly grins. “You’re a good lad, aren’t you, Bil? Gloin warned me not to underestimate you, but I’m afraid I did. Thank you greatly for your help.” With a squeeze to her shoulder, he moves past her.

“Wait— I want to know one more thing,” she bursts out. “Just— I swear, this is the last.” Dwalin turns and raises an eyebrow. “When is… when are the Princes to arrive?”

He frowns. Of course he frowns, but Bil hadn’t been able to help herself. It had been far from her mind since meeting Bard, as she’d been whirling girls around the Square and dipping them and sometimes being whirled and dipped herself, drinking perhaps a little too much, but the talk of Sigrid and girls had brought them back. She had tried to push thoughts of them away, but her attempts were futile. They always have a way of creeping back into her mind, taking residence in all the crevices and corners of her mind.

“I’m not fully sure. I’m on leave today, and they didn’t tell me the details.” She should have asked Gloin, he would probably know, and she really hadn’t thought this through. “They should arrive soon. Why?”

“I’m— interested. I’ve heard about them. I was curious.”

Dwalin buys it and walks off, towards Ori. Bil wishes them happiness, but her happy mood is no longer there. It’s beyond reach, and all she can really sense is her pounding heart. She was happy for a while, at least, and grabs a full mug of ale and retreats to the sidelines. There are colors swirling in front of her, a stark blue sky above, and she hasn’t felt this lost in a long long time. These people are all strangers and Bil has never felt more like she doesn’t belong.

Walking to and from Bofur’s shop had been different. There was a destination with familiar faces and something to do and she had a home to return to where people who care live. Now she has nowhere to go and no purpose. She had met Bain today and they had forged a friendship, of sorts. Bard had liked her, it seems, and Sigrid had been very friendly, and there are all the people she had danced with, but Bil is separate.

She is not of Dale; she is from a lonely Tower in the forest with magic at her fingertips. She cannot be normal, no matter how much she tries.

Trumpets sound; they ring of bad tidings to Bil’s ears as does the silence that follows. When she looks towards the stage, Thorin is standing there, a cane in hand and Fili at his shoulder. The cane is new, she thinks dimly as she stands and wanders closer. Bil can’t stop herself, she needs to be closer, to see how much she missed and how much of it was real.

“People of Dale, I bid you good afternoon and I hope you are enjoying your festivities. I have come to this event for two-fold reasons. One is that I wish to further good relations between Erebor and Dale, for one cannot be without the other.”

There are hoots of approval at his statement and Bil is so close, she really is, just a few people between the front of the stage and her. He is taller than she realized, but that might be the distance. His hair is so dark, and he looks tired. She can see the shape of his nose, straight and proud, and his eyes—

“The other reason is to present my news in person. In an accident that occurred some time ago, I lost my sight. I am now blind.”

They’re blank. They’re sightless. He cannot see anything.

Fili is somber next to him and he stares ahead steadily. His eyes do not stray, but his mouth is pressed tightly together. In grief? Bil wonders. Is he grieving for his uncle, for eyes that will see no longer?

“I will not speak of my blindness past this announcement, except if news concerning it come out. But please, continue with your festivities. I hope you have a wonderful time.”

Thorin walks off the stage; Bil’s heart aches and she wants to go walk beside him, offer him an extra shoulder or even just a hand to hold. He nearly trips on his way down the stairs and Fili rushes to help him, but he brushes it off. The people around her murmur and the band hesitantly starts playing again, though they aren’t as loud or boisterous as before. Thorin is approached by Bard and they have a short conversation and Bard clasps Thorin on the shoulder. Bil burns with so much want she wants to explode; she wants to be over there, she wants to find out the details and maybe try and use her magic to help.

“It’s really terrible,” someone near her says. “This on top of not inheriting the royal magic.”

What? Bil turns slowly and stares at the person who had spoken.

“I hope this blindness isn’t some part of that, or the other princes might get it too.”

“He did say accident.”

She doesn’t understand. Nothing makes sense. Thorin is blind, and he’s supposed to have magic, but he doesn’t? She had been told that the aristocracy had magic, but— she’s even more lost than before.

“Bil, what’re you doing?” It’s a familiar voice, though Bil takes too long to place it. “Bil?”

Bofur. This is Bofur, sweet, kind Bofur with a perpetual smile in his eyes and fingers that carve wondrous little toys. She knows him. He is comforting and she can use him as an anchor, for just this moment. “I’m fine,” she manages as she looks Bofur in the eye. He’s worried, and his hands are hovering in the act of reaching towards her.

“I’m fine,” she repeats. “I am fine. I promise you that I am fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” he comments, eyebrows drawing together and bridging the last of the distance towards her. “Let’s get you sitting down and something hearty in you.”

“I’ve been eating and drinking all day Bofur, and I swear, I’m fine. I just— I was shocked, I guess. By the prince’s news.”

“Aye, the blindness is quite the shocking news, but I don’t believe you’re fine.” He shoves her down onto a bench next to a stranger and leans over her. “Do I need to get Dori?”

She quickly shakes her head with a protest against the need and he smiles. It’s soft, and Bil doesn’t understand it. “There you are, you’re back.” He disappears for a moment and Bil stares disconcertedly across the Square, at the people, until he reappears with a plate of breads and fruits. They’re cold, like the food has been all day, and Bil pushes it away.

“I’m not hungry, nor am I thirsty. I told you I’m fine and I don’t understand why you won’t believe me.”

“You didn’t see your face,” Bofur says gently. “And if you don’t need food nor drink, what is it you need?”

A second chance, she thinks. That’s what she needs, probably. With that second chance, maybe she could have— She doesn’t know what she could have done. She’s not sure she knows what she needs either, if she thinks about it. Yes, she needs things like a roof over her head, food, the like, but beyond that? What does she need?

“How about a dance then?”

She frowns and laughs. “I thought men weren’t to dance together?”

“We’ll make an exception, just like Dwalin and Ori did,” Bofur replies with a smile and a hand extended to her. However, something’s wrong; Bil searches his face and discovers that his eyes are serious. They aren’t smiling. She takes the hand despite her confusion and is immediately spun in the fastest, dizziest spin she's experienced.

It causes her to laugh, and Bil chooses to forget, for now. She doesn’t need Thorin, and Thorin has probably forgotten all about her. She was a lonely girl from the forest with ridiculous hair and ridiculous notions and absolutely ridiculous hair. She’s not worth remembering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg so sorry for the HUGE break between chapters, but I got caught up in the hecticness of moving out and then lost interest for a bit, I've been in Japan since September, but I'll be much better about chapters now!! I was recently inspired to start up again and forced myself to sort of get this out so if it's not as good, that's why, maybe??? so so so SOOOO sorry oh my god words don't describe it, but I AM back, I swear. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and know that the action will be picking up sooner in my attempt at keeping this story moving!! any guesses what's going to happen??


	12. Chapter 12

Bil doesn’t remember getting home. She doesn’t remember getting into her nightclothes, or getting into her bed and pulling the covers over herself either. It’s a mystery. What she does remember, however, is after she danced with Bofur she drank enough and danced enough to give herself the pounding she now feels in her head and the ache through her thighs, calves and especially feet. Shoes are still hard to wear sometimes.

Rolling over in bed, she curls into a ball. Her knees tuck nicely under her chin, and she tries to drift back into sleep, but sleep becomes mist and disappears as the sun continues to rise. With a groan, she rolls to her other side. The pounding increases. This is no other option then: she has to get out of bed. It’s so comfortable though, she thinks, burying her head into her pillow.

Then the shouting starts. The pounding is momentarily forgotten, felt but distantly, and she hurries out of bed and to the kitchen. Ori is in his own night clothes and Dori is pointing a ladle at him. Bil blinks.

“Don’t think I didn’t see you, because I did. Don’t think that for a second.”

“What are you talking abou—”

“What do you think?” Dori roars. “Dwalin is of the Guard, Head of it in fact, and he is much too old for you. I don’t approve and, you know what, I forbid it. You are not to see him again.”

“B-but Dori, I—”

“I won’t hear anything more from you! I will not hear a single word. Go back to your room.” Dori ends with a bellow that has both Ori and her flinching. Ori acquiesces and doesn’t meet Bil’s eye as he passes her.

“Why,” Bil begins slowly, thinking. The pounding has receded enough for that, at least. “Is Dwalin being in the Guard a problem?”

“Good morning,” Dori says gruffly, turning back to the counter. He was kneading bread; the dough is there and there are still indents from when he had last pressed into it.

“Why?” Bil insists. “Why does it matter?”

“I will not hear about this from you either,” Dori growls, half-turning towards her. His face clouds nearly beyond recognition and, for the first time in a truly long time, Bil is scared. His arms are tense, muscles bulging and his hands are tightly clenched.

“I— I don’t understand why Dwalin being a guard is so bad,” she tries.

“It’s none of your business,” he says, voice a low register of warning and turns back to his bread. “I suggest you keep your nose out of it.”

“Then tell me why you’re standing in the way of two people who love each other.”

This time Dori turns all the way around, a stricken look on his face that quickly falls to anger. “It was you. You put Ori up to it, you convinced him of going through with it.”

“I didn’t put him up to anything he didn’t already want to do!” She cries. “All I did was give him confidence.”

“Confidence he doesn’t need,” Dori yells. Unwillingly, Bil takes a step back.

“You— you’re blinded,” she whispers, a hand clutching her nightshirt. “Ori loves Dwalin and you’re too blinded by something, I know not what, to see or to even care.”

Dori doesn’t say anything, but his fists and heaving breath give cause for her to leave. Inside her room, she locks the door with a point, a murmur and focus. The pounding returns, as does the question of how she got back here and into bed. She sits down heavily and inches to the headboard.

That Dori was a person Bil has never seen before and she doesn’t like the person she met in the kitchen. And now Ori will never seek Dwalin out again, because he loves his older brother and won’t betray a demand from him. They are back at square one, it seems, in more way than one. Bil feels more lonely than ever, yesterday making everything worse, and Ori will most likely never fall in love again. And Dori— Dori, Bil decides, is another mystery. A mystery of tasty cooking, a tender heart and fists rarely clenched.

****  
  
  
  


Somehow she falls back asleep, sprawled awkwardly across the top of her bed. Someone chuckling from the doorway rouses her and she bolts upright, causing a, thankfully manageable, surge of pain.

“A true princess, you,” Nori laughs as he comes in, closing the door behind him. “Nice trick with the door, though whatever you did doesn’t protect against lockpicks.”

“What about fists and heavy boots?” She asks grumpily, rubbing her forehead.

“I heard from Dori.” His tone is serious and he sits on the far side of her bed, the mattress sinking under his weight. “He’s sorry he scared you.”

She pulls her knees to her chest. “I don’t understand what the problem with Dwalin is, Nori. He cares for Ori much more than I think either of you realize.”

Nori exhales slowly, putting his arms behind him and leaning backwards. “All you need to know is that Dori is a sacrificer.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Bil replies petulantly, resting her cheek on her knees and looking out the window. “That has nothing to do with the guard.”

After a few moments of silence, Nori reaches across and ruffles her hair. “I’m glad to see your hair is growing out.” And now he changes the topic, Bil thinks, glancing towards Nori. He’s smiling, eyes slightly crinkled at the corners; it makes her suspicious. “Did you need something?”

“A locked door is always an invitation to me,” he cries, posturing innocence.

“You want something from me,” she asserts, narrowing her eyes and lifting her head. “What is it?”

Nori sighs, and glances to the ajar door. “It’s beginning soon.”

“What is?”

“Erebor.”

She sucks in breath and holds it. She had forgotten and she really, really should not have. “That’s where you’ve been, isn’t it? Preparing for this.”

He nods. “Everything is ready, all the details wrapped up. All that’s left is preparing you.”

“I don’t—”

“You have to, Bilba,” Nori insists. “You promised me, and we need you. You’re our in.”

“Your— your in?” She asks incredulous. “You never told me what it was I’d be doing, just said that I’d be useful.”

He doesn’t meet her eyes. “You’re not going to like it.”

“What is it?”

“You’re to be a maid.”

Bil doesn’t respond; her eyebrows scrunch together in confusion as she stares at him.

“In the castle.”

“Castle,” Bil echoes. “The castle”

“Erebor.”

Pursing her lips together, Bil runs a frustrated hand through her hair. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say, Nori. Give it to me straight please.”

Nori sighs and his eyes dart towards her once then return to the wall in front of him. “We need someone in a close position, and all of us are too obvious. Men are questioned more than women, after all, and so… You’re going to be a maid in Erebor.”

“I— like a cleaning maid? Am I to scrub the floors and wash the curtains or something?”

He seems to be encouraged by her questions, somehow, making Bil think she’s missing something. “Not exactly like that, but not totally different either. I don’t know your full duties, but I’ve been assured that you have a spot close to the treasury.”

“Okay,” Bil nods, thinking it sounds reasonable. “But what is my spot in the full plan?”

“You’re our in, Bilba, lass,” Nori murmurs gently. “You’ll be letting us into the treasury. A lot rests on you.”

She sucks air in and exhales harshly. “I’m to learn the habits of the guards and such, aren’t I? I’m to make them trust me.”

“Yes. You are.”

Nori finally meets her eyes, and he looks sad. “I’m your last resort for this, aren’t I?” Bil murmurs.

He nods. “This implicates you more than I wanted to, and they’ll learn your face. But no one else would be trusted that close to the goods. You’re the only one.”

Getting to her knees, Bil crawls to Nori and hugs him. Her head rests in the crook of his neck and he brings an arm up around her shoulder and squeezes. “Thank you, but I’ll do it. It’s what you want, isn’t it? I’ve not been a woman of morals since you found me anyways, so what’s a little more to the stack?”

She feels the huff of laughter. “You are a remarkable person and I wish I could warn those Ereboreans about what’s to come, but that’d give our plans away.”

Bil pulls away slightly, an idea coming to mind. “I have one condition on which to do this,” she says, staring intensely at Nori. He nods and gestures for her to speak. “You are to approve of Dwalin.”

His eyebrows raise. “No. That’s not a condition I’ll agree to.”

“What’s your problem with Dwalin, then? Is it self-preservation, fear of his position?” She raises her eyebrows back at him in challenge.

“That’s not—” He shakes his head when Bil rolls her eyes. “Fine, it is. I don’t want to be caught in my own home, where I’m supposed to be safe, but by disapproval stems from Dori’s. I won’t turn my back on him in this.”

“You said Dori was a sacrificer,” Bil says thoughtfully. “Does that include Ori’s happiness?”

Nori’s eyes are sharp and his expression is disbelieving. “You don’t mean that.”

“Ori lives and breathes for his brothers, and I don’t want to see him lose his chance. I think he and Dwalin are good for each other; one tames and the other boldens. You— you don’t know Dwalin, and you see Ori as someone to be protected. If it was up to me, I would let them be together.”

“This isn’t my decision, you know,” Nori mutters. “I, too, follow my brother in this, but if it means so much to you, I will try. And,” his smile flutters on the corners of his lips, “Ori is our beloved younger brother. Maybe we should give Dwalin a chance.”

Bil grins, a cheek hurting grin and throws her arms around Nori for a second hug. “Oh, thank you, thank you! It’ll mean so much for Ori, he’s liked Dwalin for who knows how long! And I’ll do it, I’ll do the maid thing, you can trust me!”

Nori hugs her in return, though more sedately and with a pat on her back. “I’m just checking to be sure, but you do understand that, as a maid, you’ll be in dresses and the like, right?”

Her arms slide lose. “That’s right,” she whispers, staring unseeingly at Nori. “Bloody— I forgot, I was too caught up in— oh, my. Dresses.”

The pats turn into a strong rub and another hug. “Dresses aren’t cages, Bilba. Dresses can be just as good as pants.”

“That’s what Dori said,” Bil replies with a wry twist of her lips. “My history disagrees, but I don’t have much choice now, do I?”

“You are the best of the best, lass,” Nori says and he’s smiling. It’s the crooked smile, the one that warms Bil’s heart, the one that she remembers when she first met him, her favorite smile.

“You are too, but we have a heist to pull off if we’re to prove it.”

Bil purposefully doesn’t ask of the princes, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t thinking of them.

****  
  
  
  


Bofur’s greeting is cheerful when she meets him the next morning; she smiles back and replies with her own greeting.

“The festival is over, and now the work begins anew,” Bofur sighs wistfully. “Too bad it can’t last forever.”

“I’m afraid my legs would fall off from exhaustion if it were to keep going forever,” Bil retorts, helping setting the little figurines and toys out.

“Well, t’would be beautiful while it lasted. By the way, you’re a wonderful dancer,” Bofur winks slyly.

She shakes her head. “I am not. I have little skill and nearly no technique.”

“I heard you were takin’ lessons from Gandalf. Any pupil of his learns to dance well and lovely.”

She snorts now. “Lovely. I’m sure.”

Bofur shrugs, surveying the surface of the table. “He taught the princes, he did, and they’re said to be the best dancers in the country.”

“Are they?” Her tone is airy, not betraying the uptick in her heartbeat.

“I once saw Prince Fili dance, and he was one of the most skilled dancers I’ve seen. He’s a notable warrior as well.”

“And the other princes, Thorin, and Kili? Are they as good as Prince Fili?”

“Aye, they’re said to be.”

Silence reigns as they finish setting the table up. Bil focuses on that, because she’s suddenly thinking of what it would be like to dance with Thorin, both of them with long hair and it swirling around them as they danced. He would pull her close. He would smile. He would be nice, and she would be able to feel the bass of his voice through their clasped hands.

Bofur breaks the silence. “It’s a shame about Prince Thorin though.”

Her brief fantasy is shattered and her hands drop a wooden, lifelike horse. She stoops to pick it up. It had been a lovely thought, dancing with Thorin, but without his eyesight he won’t be able to dance. “Yes. It is. He probably can’t dance any more.” When she stands up, Bofur is staring at her. Her fingers clench tighter around the horse. “What?”

“Lad, do you remember what happened at the festival?”

“What do you mean? I remember the news, yes.”

“And after that?” His insistence is unusual.

“I-I don’t remember much. I think I drank too much.” Bil tries smiling at Bofur, but he doesn’t smile back. It is another hint that something is wrong, different. He insisted and now he doesn’t smile back. “Is everything okay?”

“You don’t remember what happened in the evening?” His voice is strained and Bil reaches out in an attempt at a comforting movement.

“No, I don’t. I don’t— I don’t remember anything. I don’t know how I got home either.”

Bofur’s eyes search her face before his entire body seems to droop. “Okay. Gotcha, lad.” Bofur adds, nearly inaudibly, “Bil.” It sends a shiver up her spine. This is not the normal Bofur. She sends a quick look at Bifur, who’s sitting farther away, hunched over something.

“How’s Bifur today?” She asks, eager to change the conversation. “Was he at the festival?”

Bofur’s face is mirror still, and then he grins widely. It is the grin Bil knows; it reaches his eyes and looks on the edge of painful it’s so wide. “Aye, he was. He loves ale, adores it, drinks it like water.”

“Is he hungover, then?” She quirks an eyebrow as she stares at Bifur. He looks the part.

“Nah, he’s upset that Bombur’s been too busy at Erebor to make his favorite hangover recipe.”

Erebor. Bil wonders if she’ll meet Bombur while there— should she create an alias? Bilba is awfully close to Bil after all, it probably won’t take much thought to make a connection. Her description won’t be too different, except that she’ll have breasts and hair styled for women.

“Is anything unusual happening at Erebor that has him so busy?”

Bofur sighs and crooks a finger for Bil to lean in. “Apparently,” he whispers, “the Academy has been extra thorny and demanding lately. With Prince Thorin blinded and magic-less, it’s rumored they might have a try at grabbing the throne.”

The Academy, Bil remembers with a choking swallow, teaches those with magic. “Who in the Academy would dare?” She whispers back.

He edges closer and eyes the streets and breathes the name into Bil’s ear. “Smaug.”

The name sinks into Bil’s mind. She vows she will not forget this name for twofold reasons: for threatening Thorin and for giving magic a terrible name. “I don’t know much of the Academy. I don’t know who that is.”

“The Academy is a mysterious place. Not much is known, so don’t go thinking we all have a plethora of knowledge about the place.”

“I wouldn’t dare do such a thing.”

****  
  
  
  


Dinner that evening is quiet. Nori is present, for once, and keeps on shooting Bil looks. Ori stares solely at his plate and Dori eats airily, as though the morning had never happened. It makes Bil sick, to think that one of the few things Bil has ever known Ori to want is to be denied. It doesn’t seem right, to her, then again she’s half in love with a prince. But she’s not fully in love, not yet; Bil is deep in denial about it and repeats to herself ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ and believes it to mean her growing feelings for Thorin are not real.

“The potatoes are excellent,” Nori breaks the silence.

Dori smiles his thanks and the conversation ends there. Bil picks at her food, rolling beans around her plate and pushes them into her mashed potatoes. She is playing with her food and she has been reprimanded about it, but it seems as though everyone is striving to ignore each other.

It hurts. She thought they were family, but this doesn’t seem any different from Mother.

“I made all my dresses, you know,” she says quietly. “Stitch by stitch, with a needle half the size of my pinky. Mother provided the pattern and I followed it.”

Dori pauses eating and Nori is firmly staring at her, but Ori still stares at his plate. Bil keeps her eyes on him. “What do you mean?”

“I never once had a choice. I was told to make a dress and I never asked why. I was scared that she wouldn’t love me if I said no.”

“What are you talking about?” Dori sounds irritated. She doesn’t move her gaze.

“This morning you sounded an awful lot like my Mother,” she whispers. Ori doesn’t look up and Bil wonders if this, too, is abuse. Dori is using the fear as a weapon in the name of protection, but it makes her think of being left alone for days, for weeks, and she can’t stop it.

“I am not like that woman who locked you up for years,” Dori growls warningly. “He is my brother.”

She swallows and darts a glance at Nori before finally meeting Dori’s furious, brown eyes. Nori’s face is carefully blank, though the steady gaze bolsters her confidence into what she needs. If she loses Dori, at least she has Nori. “And she was my mother.”

Dori stands abruptly. The chair behind him falls and he stalks out of the room.

“I won’t regret this,” she calls fiercely after him, pushing her chair back with a heavy sound and stands. “Ori should not be controlled like the lost little girl I was. If he won’t fight you, I will.”

He comes back and his hands are not empty. There’s a coil of rope in his hands and Bil starts edging away.

“What are you doing?” Nori asks, standing as well. “Dori, don’t do anything rash.”

“Oh, this isn’t rash,” he growls taking a step towards Bil. She refuses to take another step back and runs through the catalogue of spells in her mind. Which would work best? She could heat the coil so hot Dori couldn’t hold it anymore. She could pull it out of his hands, though she doesn’t know if she could do it fast enough to keep it out of his grip. Maybe a combination of the two.

“Dori, you need to stop. You sacrificed a lot, and no one will understand exactly what it is like, losing what you lost, but you shouldn’t take it out on Bil of all people,” Nori barks, moving to get between them. Bil moves so that her eyes can meet Dori’s and meets his intensity with her own.

“Stop it,” Ori bursts out, slamming his hands on the table. All of them move to look at him. His eyes look close to tears as he stares them all down and are bloodshot. “Dori, you are not to harm Bil. She is our sister and her words make you angry because they ring with truth.”

Dori’s hands drop and the coil of rope falls to the ground. “I— she’s not right. She’s not. I love you, Ori. You’re my brother.”

“Love can do terrible things, but I guess you haven’t heard the latest gossip that it was a lover’s foolish quest that cost the Prince Thorin his sight?”

Bil gasps; the thought is the straw on the camel’s back. He loves someone, she thinks distantly. He loves someone else. She doesn’t know why she was harboring such foolish hope, but it must have been deep, deep within for it to hit this hard.

Dori takes his seat; Bil struggles to focus on his seated form and then moves her eyes to look at Ori. He’s staring at her and he looks confused; Bil has no idea why that look is on his face, but the pain welling in her heart makes her want to reach across and hug him tightly and tell him that he will be okay, that he will be happy and spill that Dwalin took dancing lessons just for him.

“Bil, you’re crying.” Nori’s tone is surprised— Ori’s confusion makes sense now.

“Excuse me, I’m not feeling too well,” she murmurs and returns to her room. They don’t follow her; it is a small mercy.

****  
  
  
  


It is Nori who appears in her doorway for the second time that day.

“Lass, are you okay?”

“Am I to be lass now?” She asks. The tears have stopped, or she thinks they’ve stopped. She didn’t notice when they began, but they’ve stopped making wet spots on her bedsheets.

“To prepare you for Erebor.” He tries a grin, but the worry is stronger than the attempt. “You didn’t answer my question,” he says quietly after silence colors the air. “Are you okay?”

“I will be,” Bil says with more conviction than she has. “I will be.” The echo is quiet and much more tremulous than she wanted it to be.

“If you don’t think you’re up—”

“I am,” she cries, interrupting him. “I am ready. In fact, I want to start as soon as possible.”

Nori blinks at her. “Are you sure?” He asks, a furrow in his brow.

“Yes,” Bil says fiercely. “I am ready.”

His face smooths and he comes to her and hugs her, stooping to reach her on the bed. “You’re a brave girl,” he murmurs soothingly. “Perhaps the bravest.”

“Don’t underestimate those smaller than yourself,” she replies with a small smile.

He ruffles her hair and leaves his hand there. “We’ll start in two days. Say your goodbyes.”

“There aren’t many to say.”

“Doesn’t mean there aren’t any,” Nori says and causes Bil to roll her eyes.

“Nori, the fount of wisdom.”

His eyes are fond. “Not my style. This girl I first found salivating over apple turnovers fits it well though.”

“I doubt that.”

“Dori hates change,” is the last thing he says before he closes the door behind him.

She stares at the wooden door before returning her gaze out her window. She’ll stare at the stars as much as she can tonight; they are a comfort and they contain no bad memories. Only good things.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more secrets have been introduced and Nori's heist is to soon begin!! look forward to it!!!


	13. Chapter 13

Dresses swish. Somehow, Bil had forgotten that. The skirt of the dress she’s currently wearing is long, nearly brushing the tops of the lace-up boots that Erebor staff members are required to wear. There’s a little heel in them as well, which Bil likes and dislikes; she’s just the littlest bit taller now, the price being her balance. She’s nearly tripped a couple times, but she’s gotten accustomed more quickly than she thought she would.

The colors are black and a dark blue. Bil at first thought it silly to have such dark uniform colors in a city built under a mountain, but torches light the hallways like the sun lights the world. She has been in Erebor for precious little time, and she already misses the natural light, a light breeze blowing her hair and the sun upon her skin. It is colder outside than inside, but the atmosphere inside is vastly different.

Shaking her head lightly, Bil refocuses to the task at hand. Her hair, usually styled in a more masculine way, curls at the nape of her neck and was restyled altogether by Gandalf a few days before when she was still in Dale. He’d been happy to help after he heard she was returning to dresses, and gave her a haircut all of her three adoptive brothers loved.

Her hands still for a moment and renew with more energy than before at the thought of her brothers. She’d been told she wouldn’t be scrubbing floors or washing curtains and had thought washing dishes fell into the same category as those, but apparently not. She was stationed in the kitchen and set to busy work by Bombur— who has no idea who she is. He’s a friendly man with long, red hair and a nose that is his only common physicality with Bofur and Bifur.

Her goodbye to Bofur had been stiff. Something in their relationship had soured, which Bil would have sworn up and down would never happen if she hadn’t witnessed the forced smile he had given her. Something is wrong and now Bil is too far away to try and fix it. You can’t fix anything, she tells herself and scrubs harder at a piece of food stuck to a dish.

There is the rapid click of boot and a tap on her shoulder. “You, how long until you’re done?” The maid asks, a frenzied look in her eyes

She hesitates before replying. “Not too long, I think, but that’s for the washing only. I have to dry them as well.”

The maid looks around the kitchen and Bil follows her gaze. There is Bombur, tasting a soup, a few other cooks and one other maid who is preparing a tray of some sorts.

“Lena,” the maid calls, striding quickly to where the maid is. Lena looks up, bangs bouncing and gives the other maid a tentative smile.

“Yes, ma’am, how can I help?”

“Who are you preparing this for?”

“M’lady Dis, ma’am. She requested her favorite tea blend.”

The frenzied maid purses her lips and sends a look towards Bil. “The new girl will do it. I need an experienced maid for an important task. Understood?”

Bil nods and Lena bobs her head eagerly. She quickly rinses her hands, towels them off and stares uncertainly at the tray in front of her; there is a teapot and a bowl of what Bil assumes is tea leaves as well as a small dish with shortbread cookies.  The other two are whispering to each other, the frenzied maid doing so with more emphasis.

“Excuse me,” she says, timidly at first but with more force when her words go unheard. “Excuse me, I’m not sure what it is I’m doing.”

The frenzied maid rolls her eyes but Lena smiles sweetly. “You’re new, right? Let me tell you how M’lady Dis likes her tea. You are to let her steep it herself, but prepare the other items. Her sons are currently visiting her, so provide three teacups and saucers. Do you know where her rooms are?”

“I think I do, but…” Bil smiles sheepishly. “This place is so large.”

The other maid scoffs. “This is why I don’t like new staff, especially from outside of Erebor. They know nothing.”

Bil frowns. “I know manners, at least,” she mutters under her breath.

“Hmm?” Lena asks, tilting her head. “What was that?”

“Oh, nothing,” Bil replies with a bright, false smile. “I’m sure I can find my way to LadyDis’s quarters, thank you.”

“Are you sure?” There’s a crease in Lena’s forehead and Bil’s smile turns soft and real.

“Yes. Go on, do whatever it is you need to do, I’ll finish the prep.”

Lena smiles and then follows the other maid, who sniffs at Bil, out of the kitchen. Then she heaves a sigh and searches for cups and saucers that match the one out already. She goes through several cupboards without any luck, and grins gratefully when someone places two of cup and saucer on the tray for her.

It’s Bombur. “Be careful, lass, alright?” He’s worried too, and she’s not quite sure what she did to cause him worry.

“With what?”

“Lady Dis is kind enough, but watch Sofya. Her tongue is sharp and reaches all sorts of ears.”

She nods. “Thank you, but why are you…?”

Bombur chuckles; his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles. It’s another resemblance to Bofur. “You’re a good girl and I’d hate for something to happen to you.”

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

“Will you, eh?”

She shrugs and picks up the tray. “I’m resilient.”

 

 

It is in the hallways, the skirt swishing around her legs, that nerves hit her. The princes— Fili and Kili, and Dis is Thorin’s sister. She has to pause, duck into a corner to try and keep from hyperventilating. She had sworn up and down to Nori that she’d be fine and keeps the look of concern and worry on his face in the very front of her mind. She has to keep that promise to Nori. She’s only been here for a few days and has yet to learn anything about the Treasury other than its location.

It is in the same level as the kitchens. Bil remembers from the tour, although she had been in awe of the entire city when she entered. She remembers the tall gate and the terribly high arches with the most beautiful tooled designs in gold and dotted with jewels that she could only guess the price of. That was not where she was to work, though; the servants quarters are quite different. The walls lack the design and beauty that had struck Bil silent in the main halls and there are no high arches that cause her to crane her neck to try and fathom the distance between her and them.

The most overbearing thought was this: Thorin walks these halls. Thorin has seen these halls and he has talked in these halls and he has appreciated their beauty. This thought quickly followed: now he can no longer see them. It was a sobering thought and Bil recalls her wonder and the quick disappearance of it as she walks the halls searching for Dis’s rooms.

When she arrives, her hands shake as she smiles and curtsies to the guards posted outside Dis’s door. “Tea for her ladyship,” she murmurs in the low, polite tone she’d been taught to use.

“She’s been waiting,” one says as the other opens the door.

She nods and tries valiantly to not look terrified, but the guard must take pity on her because he reaches out to squeeze her shoulder. “Don’t worry so much,” he says in an encouraging tone. “She doesn’t bite.”

“Much,” the other guard jokes as he ushers her in. “But her bark is worse than her bite.”

“Thank you,” she murmurs, willing her hands to stop that shaking. The tremors in her hands are causing the cups to vibrate on their saucers, a high-pitched tinkling emitting. “I— I’m new, so… I’m very nervous.”

The guard pats her head. “Don’t be. Erebor’s a wonderful place.”

She nods and finally goes through the doors. The kindness of these guards reminds her of Gloin and how friendly he had been, how caring. Though so long ago, Bil remembers that he was the only stranger to approach her on the streets when she first arrived in Dale. She won’t forget Gloin’s kindness, and she shan’t forget these guards kindness either.

When she enters the room, she gapes at the walls around her. They are painted with murals, illustrating a story Bil can only guess at. Her eyes trail around the round room, taking in only the shallowest impression in the time it takes her to notice Lady Dis sitting at a desk and smiling in amusement at her.

“Oh, my pardon, M’lady Dis, I meant no disrespect,” Bil blunders as she hurries over to her desk, but stops and stares at the covered desk in consternation. If the desk is covered, where is she to put the tray? She throws her glance around and spies her sons sitting on a couch not far away and grinning at her in clear, open amusement.

So this is what they look like, Bil thinks as she stares at them. Their hair is unkempt, braids twining through with loose strands everywhere and they both have bright, bright eyes. Both of them are staring at her with large grins, even teeth bared.

It takes a moment more of staring before Bil looks down at the tray in her hands and back to Dis. “Good afternoon, M’lady Dis, your highnesses,” she says, curtsying as best she can with her hands full. “Where would you like me to put your tea?”

“Over on that table is fine, thank you.”

The table is in front of the princes; Fili is now leaning forward, watching her with eyes that are still amused but sharp as well. Kili still looks plain amused, an arm thrown across the back of the couch.

“Are you new here?” Fili asks as she sets down the tray.

“Y-yes, your highness,” she stumbles, holding her hands clasped behind her like she’d been taught. “As of a few days ago.”

Fili hums. “And how is it so far?”

Bil tilts her head thoughtfully. “To be truthful, your highness, it’s very, very different from Dale.”

Now Kili leans forward with an eager expression. “Dale!” Then it falls. “I’m not allowed to go.”

“Crime abounds in Dale, Kili. You’d likely lose more than just your purse, knowing you,” the Lady Dis says from behind Bil. There’s a rustle of papers and then a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you for bringing my tea.” She takes an armchair next to the couch and takes the cover off the hot water and puts the tea leaves into the teapot. “What’s your name?”

Bil hesitates. “Blueberry, M’lady.” Nori had advised her to take a fake name while here, so it would be harder to track her later, and she had chosen this one without thinking. It had gone well at first. Everyone had smiled at her name, thought it cute, but Bil had forgotten that the princes all knew her by this name.

“And your—”

“Blueberry?” Kili echoes, interrupting his mother, and Bil chances a glance and is frozen looking at him. There’s a ghost of a frown on his face, eyebrows drawing forward; Fili has a similar expression and is intent on her face. They both also look entirely too hopeful for her heart to rest.

“Yes, your highness.”  
  
“And you’re from Dale?”

She nods. “Yes, your highness.”

“Have you always been from Dale?” Fili asks, much quieter than his brother. Bil returns her gaze to Dis, who is frowning at her sons.

“Yes, your highness. M’lady, is there anything else you require?”

“Oh, I think I’m good, but one more question. Your family? Do you have one?”

Bil can’t hold her gaze and her eyes drop to the elegant, porcelain teapot. “Adopted brothers is all, m’lady.”

“Thank you Blueberry,” Dis says with a smile. “You may go now.” Bil smiles back and sweeps a curtsy.

Fili and Dis look alike. They both have bright, golden hair and sky-blue eyes. Their smiles are different; Dis and Kili smile more alike, with corners tilting and eyes wrinkling the same way. She wonders if maybe Kili takes after his father more in looks, or maybe does he take after Thorin? Her heartbeat notches up a little.

This was close. Far, far too close. She— this is a mistake, Bil thinks faintly, though she reminds herself of Nori and his concerned expression and stiffens her spine as she leaves Dis’s rooms behind her. The guards greet her cheerfully and Bil tells herself to wear the cloak of an innocent girl from Dale as she smiles bashfully at them, relating the kindness of the royal family. She will survive by pretending to be orphan Blueberry from Dale. It’s not too far from the truth after all.

 

 

She gets lost on the way back to the kitchen. She thinks she should return to the kitchen. Bombur can give her another job to do, or maybe someone else can, but Bil can’t find her way back and is making her way back to Dis’s chambers, if she can find those. The hallways tend to look the same, but something about these hallways are starting to give her a headache, the pressure in her skull rising.

“My, look at this. Who do we have here?”

It’s an unfamiliar voice, deep and she feels like it’s supposed to be calming, but it sends a shiver through her. She turns, though, dutiful. The man who had spoken to her is tall, very tall, and whip-thin, with a trail of five or so people. His hair is a dark red, much darker than Gloin’s, and curls around his shoulders. His eyes, Bil is shocked to see, are also red. His clothes, looking of velvet and silk, follow suit in the same color and has a mantle hanging from his shoulders to the floor.

“A maid, sir,” she murmurs, curtsying and keeps her head down. He must be a higher official, the fine material of his clothes and the entourage indicate so. But, as much as she tries to rack her brain, she can’t think of a single name.

“Your magnificence, girl,” he sneers, stepping closer to her. She nods, keeping her eyes down. For some reason, she’s scared. “That is what you call me.” There’s a pause, almost thoughtful, and his tone is more interested when he speaks again. “You clearly don’t know who I am. Are you new?”

She nods again. “Yes, your magnificence.”

He sniffs and moves past her and around her, the mantle around his shoulders moving around the corners of her vision. He smells like burning sugar and cedar smoke. “Lift your head.”

When she does, he’s right in front of her, bending down to meet her eyes. Bil would look down, but she’s struck by the same familiarity she’d felt when faced with Gandalf. He has a similar feel to Mother, but what is it, about these people, that remind Bil of Mother? They are all so very tall, with peculiar eyes and—

She knows who this is. “Do I have the honor of addressing the Magnificent Smaug?”

His lips turn smug, but his eyes burn with a cold fire. “Yes, you do, girl. And what’s your name?” He purrs, a finger stretched out to run down her jawline.

Bil swallows. “My name is Blueberry, your magnificence, of Dale.”

“Blueberry of Dale, hmm,” Smaug whispers, leaning in a little closer. “You’re a very pretty girl.”

She can’t move. She wants to. She wants to take a step back, wants to lift a finger and push him back, back, back, past all his men and into a wall. She suddenly wants to break him, tear him down smug look by light finger-touch, and lock all of him into her Tower.

“Thank you, your magnificence,” she murmurs instead and moves to a curtsy. She realizes a moment later that it’s not a problem of mentality, of not wanting to move enough, but because Smaug has magicked her to the spot. She is not much of a threat, but she glares at Smug nonetheless. “Have you magicked me to this spot, your magnificence?” She hisses. “I don’t know much about magic law, but I have a feeling that the King would not like to hear of this.”

Smug’s look is amused as he takes a step back and straightens. “I’m sure he wouldn’t be happy, but he’d have to hear of this first. Maids like you don’t have the King’s ear, much less anyone else’s.”

He flutters his hand and suddenly— she can move, but she doesn’t. She continues staring at Smaug and her gaze roams his face. He has the same cheekbones as Mother and those curls echo hers. “You have such a distinctive face, your magnificence,” she says, low. “Do you have siblings?”

His gaze is keen and, now, curious. “Why do you ask, maid Blueberry of Dale?”

Bil smiles and curtsies. “It is of no importance, your magnificence. Am I free to leave? I have duties to attend to.”

He doesn’t want to let her go, she can tell, but now there are murmurs coming from those who follow him. Other magicians, Bil assumes, but doesn’t want to test that assumption. “Yes. Turn left two turns from here and you should be able to find your way back to the kitchen.”

“Thank you, your magnificence,” she curtsies. “You are kind.”

“Or weak,” he curls his lip. “Go on now.”

She carefully walks past him and around those who follow him, who all stare at her as she walks by. Bil smiles at each of their faces; they are all men with no distinct features other than that they all possess golden colored hair. They all also wear the same red as Smaug’s colors.

It is hard to not to break into a run, and it is harder still to try and calm her racing heart. She can’t— she can’t believe she just ran into Smaug, Head of the Academy. At the turn, she stumbles. No one can see her if she takes a small break on the floor, head between her knees and inhaling deeply. She needs this moment.

 

 

Bombur gives her a shrewd look when she enters the kitchens some time later, however much later it was, and plucks a tart from a tray and hands it to her. “You look like you need it,” he says gruffly and Bil doesn’t feel like eating it. This is a treasure; all food is, really. She can steal as much food as she needs, but being given something out of concern is like nothing else.

“On my return, I ran into his magnificence Smaug,” she mumbles as she cups the warm pastry in her hands. It’s not apple, her favorite, but no apple tart has ever bested the first one she ever ate. “He—” She doesn’t finish the sentence.

Bombur plucks another tart from the tray and gives it to her. “Eat up,” he orders and watches her eat one and then as she quickly finishes the other because the first had awoken her hunger. She hasn’t eaten in what feels like hours.

“You are to remember those halls, Blueberry, lass,” Bombur says seriously, taking her hands in his. They are large, so much larger than her own and full of calluses This, too, is the same as Bofur. A hard worker, as well as kind and sincere. “That area was most likely of the Academy. It is dangerous for those who don’t have magic. If you don’t want to see Smaug again, you will not enter the area.”

“I will try,” she promises earnestly. Bombur smiles gently at her and Bil can’t help it, she throws her arms around his shoulders for a hug. “Thank you,” she murmurs into his ears. “I don’t think I deserve much kindness.”

“Everyone deserves kindness,” Bombur says, blinking in what is most likely surprise. “Don’t know why you think such a thing, but I’d wager Smaug himself deserves a bit of kindness as well. You can’t know everyone’s stories, but you can be kind despite that.”

“You hardly know me, Bombur.”

“Aye, yet I was raised believing in everyone. Me and my brother, Bofur.”

Bil blinks. They are brothers. They really, really are brothers. It makes Bil wonder if there are any similarities between her and her three adoptive brothers. Does she take care like Dori, lose her temper like him? Does she have Nori’s quicksilver smile and nimble fingers? But, almost most important, does she have any of Ori’s sweetness, any of his love for the world? She’s not sure, but she can start applying Bombur’s kindness here.

“Can you tell me about him? About your brother?”

Bombur’s eyes twinkle. “Of course, but first I’m going to need you to finish those dishes you were pulled away from first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look at all the new characters!! how exciting ahaha. hope you enjoyed the new chapter, have any guesses?


	14. Chapter 14

Days pass slowly at first and then move forward at a pace that Bil is surprised at, but quickly gets used to it. They’re filled with washing dishes, running errands for the cooks and she brings Dis tea again, but just for Dis. She gives Bil appraising looks each time, but asks her no questions beyond polite inquiries as how she is that particular day. Bil is polite back and is quietly grateful that Dis doesn’t question her about the princes interest in her.

She almost forgets her purpose in Erebor. Almost, but she learns her way around, makes friends with other maids and guards, and stumbles upon the Treasury. The doors are tall and studded with jewels and carved gorgeously with ivy, flowers and a story Bil doesn’t know. Much like the rest of Erebor, they are a thing of beauty. Erebor is drastically different from Dale and Bil can sense why the people of Dale would hold resentment. Erebor does trade with Dale, for food and the like, but Erebor has so much wealth and very little of it ever leaves the mountain.  She wonders how they manage to do that, how they can hoard so much and still be so respected, so revered. What, after all, do they bring to everyone? Hope for a better life, no matter how impossible that hope is?

It makes her dislike Sofya more and more and more, and the others that are like her for she is not the only one of her type. She is disdainful of everything Bil does and mutters something derogatory about ‘outsiders’ every time she makes a mistake, no matter how small or big. The bigger mistakes, like when she accidentally drops a serving platter while putting it away, she unleashes all of her anger and Bil takes it even while knowing if she’d felt safe, she could have used her magic to save the shattered dish. The dish had been beautiful, white porcelain with painted designs of a forest picnic. Her heart had hurt when she realized there wasn’t anything she could do.

Her favorite ray of life is Lena, sweet, dear Lena. Her friendly smiles and easy conversation win Bil over and they tend to work shoulder to shoulder whenever they can. Lena dismisses Sofya and the other’s sharp remarks. Lena’s from Erebor herself, and she claims to have no interested in leaving Erebor other than for day trips, but she begs for stories of Dale all the time. Bil couldn’t imagine living in Erebor for the rest of her life, because her heart is restless already. She wants open skies she rarely gets the chance to see now; she wants trees and the sun and a light breeze on her skin. She wants to walk the streets of Dale again, see the open-air stalls like Bofur’s and wander the Artisan district, slyly taking bits and pieces when she chooses and can. She misses her brothers more keenly than she thought she would, and panics now and then that she’ll forget their faces.

Bil hopes that it will be worth it. The jewels and the fame that Nori craves will have to be worth it, because Bil is already bolstering herself for the pain she knows she is going to give the kind people here. Bombur, Lena, those guards the first time she served tea to Dis, and particularly the guards of the Treasury. She knows their names. She knows about their families, anecdotes about cousins and children and scampering around like she knows when they get on and off, what days they work and the best way to knock out each of them when the time comes. It will hurt, but it is necessary.

The Treasury guards Bil has gotten closest to are named Lilo and Purri. Lilo reminds her of Bofur a little, all smiles and easy-going humor, thought of as being one of the handsomest men in Erebor, and Purri is easily the more serious of the two, but his jokes are always the best for his poker face despite the expressiveness of his face. When possible, she seeks them out. Not just when she’s working, or they’re working, but afterwards. When they get dinner at the cafeteria together, with a din rising amongst all the people, she seeks out Lilo’s bright blonde hair. Sometimes his sister is with him, an assistant to one of Erebor’s Councilmen and in the corresponding uniform with the vest and pin. Purri, she knows, has no family, but an extensive network of friends who have started to learn Bil’s face and welcome her as a friend of Purri’s.

It’s like family, in a way. Lilo and his sister, Ella, are quiet together, chatting of this or that, though still genuine like Bofur is. Purri is loud in a way he’s not when on duty, and likes to drink, redden his cheeks with alcohol and is generous with all of his possessions. Lena sometimes joins them and her cheeks redden with something other than alcohol when Bil’s sitting with Purri and his friends. It causes Bil to be suspicious, but this is not what she’s here for. She is not to be a matchmaker, not like she was with Ori and Dwalin.

The thought of Ori and Dwalin twinges at her, gnaws at her mind for days. She wants to know all about what’s going on between them, but letters aren’t allowed. She doesn’t even know how she’s going to inform Nori of all the things he needs to know, and instead she creates scenarios in her head. She imagines hand-holding, precious and sweet; she imagines Dwalin coming over for dinner, to Dori glowering at him and Nori laughing in the corner. She doesn’t try to imagine her meeting Thorin again, of whom she has heard no news. Nothing has been announced and everyone is in the dark, but no one speaks of it. They are all mute as though one body; Bil cannot understand it. She’s not even of Erebor, yet she’s dying for news. Secretly, late at night with the covers pulled over her head, she flips through her magic book and teaches herself. Soon she has gone through the entire book, and there has not been a single spell to cure blindness, but she will not give up.

After a while, she acknowledges that there is something a little off about Ereboreans. Except those from Dale, whom Bil has never even met as being known as an outsider is similar to being a loner, none want to leave. They are an island in and of themselves, and yet they don’t walk their halls with full confidence. Bil suspects that she’s now the only one who is scared of a tall figure in red with an insidious, lovely voice. Something is wrong with Erebor, but this is not something for her to fix. Fixing Erebor is not her job, besides being far too large a responsibility for shoulders as narrow as hers.

Besides, she’s not sure how much she likes it here. People can be cold, can care so much more about their gold or precious jewels, about being a true Ereborean, that Bil sometimes feel herself fading to backgrounds to save herself. She doesn’t like it and feels like this is something she can fix, but doesn’t.

  
  
  


It is nearing the end of the day, and the end of Lilo and Purri’s watch, when Bil meets Balin. She had been loitering around them, let out early for the day by even-tempered Bombur, despite the sharp look Sofya gives her as she folds dishcloths. They were talking about Lilo’s sister, about her upcoming birthday and Bil doesn’t let it slip that she’s not had the sort of party they’re talking about having, when there is a smooth ahem.

Lilo and Purri snap to attention and Bil’s gaze darts around in search of who it is. She swallows and curtsies immediately after seeing the formal robes, the deep blue and the gold pin declaring him Advisor to the King. His hair is greying, though his face is young-looking; it could be age, but it could also very well be stress. His eyes seem familiar, but Bil can’t place how or where from.

“Good to see you lads working so hard,” he says with a dry tone, though his eyes are curiously fixed on her. She ducks her head down and stands demurely, hands behind her back. “Who is this lass?”

“This is Blueberry, a maid under Chef Bombur,” Lilo replies stiffly.

“A maid, hm,” the man hums. “I see.”

“We’re not—” Bil starts but aborts rapidly. They are not to speak unless required to, she is frequently told. Bombur is a figure to whom she is never to talk back to, or initiate conversation unless absolutely required, but Bombur is much less strict about this rule than Sofya is. Used to Bombur, Bil had let her tongue slip. “I beg your pardon,” she murmurs, hunching her shoulders together.

“No, it’s fine. You’re not what? Together?”

“Yes, your honor.”

“Sir is fine, lass, no need for such formalities.”

She curtsies again, keeping her head down.

“I need in,” the man says, no longer addressing her but the two men.

“Your identification, sir,” Purri says and there is a rustle and a grumble but soon the doors are opening.

“Blueberry, lass, please lift your head.” His voice is gentle and, cautiously, she raises her head. The man is staring at her with a small smile. “There’s no need to be so scared. No one is going to hurt you.”

She doesn’t believe that. Smaug most certainly would if she were ever in his way, Sofya is not necessarily a kind soul, and Bil doesn’t like traversing anywhere at night. Wearing skirts has made her wary. “I would not say that is a truth for any who are not from Erebor, sir,” she replies. If he is to say such a thing, Bill will test it. He doesn’t seem like he will hurt her, now, but Bil doesn’t always trust her judgement.

His eyebrows go up. “You’re from Dale then?”

She nods; she also notices that Lilo and Purri are exchanging glances and shifting lightly on their feet.

“Have you met my brother, perchance? Dwalin, of the guard? He often goes to Dale.”

“I— I have not,” she stammers. She hope it doesn’t sound as much of a lie to him as it does to her. “Does he look like you, sir?”

The man eyes her shrewdly for a moment before shaking his head. “Not a whit. Next time you’re in town, seek him out and tell him his brother Balin’s upset he hasn’t seen that bald head of his in a long time.”

“I-I will, sir.”

He nods, seemingly satisfied, and enters the Treasury. Lilo and Purri both turn to stare at her and she nearly falls to the ground, her knees shaking and knocking into each other. She sways on the spot, and Lilo darts to her side, an arm around her waist to help keep her upright.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, curling a hand into the fabric at his shoulder. “Thanks, Lilo.”

His dark eyes are worried. Bil always forgets that Lilo is handsome; she has heard it from the other maids, has even heard envious whispers from men in Erebor, but she has never noticed it like she’s noticing it now. His arm is hard around her waist; he makes her feel small but large, as though she could be the smallest person in the world, but, somehow, she is still the most important person to him in the entire world. She swallows and avoids looking at the curls of blonde hair at his forehead and struggles not to notice how he is holding her body with such ease.

“I’m fine,” she mumbles and Lilo, with a small frown, lets go of her waist an increment at a time. When her words prove true, he moves away. His face, usually set with a small smile, is blank. She glances towards Purri and sees— worry?

“I— who was that?” She asks, turning back to Lilo, but that’s a mistake. He’s staring at her, dark eyes so intent, as though he wants to put his arm around her waist yet again, and she’s caught.

“Balin,” he replies. “Counsels the King and is close friend to Prince Thorin.” Her eyes dart to the door; this is the first time Bil has heard Thorin’s name in days, weeks, and it has released her from Lilo’s gaze.

“Oh. He seems nice.”

“He is.” It is the end of the conversation; Lilo’s tone is not giving and Purri’s face is back to his normal poker-face.

“I’ll see you later, then,” she murmurs, eyes to the ground. She can see the leather toes of Lilo’s boots and watches him move back to his post. “At dinner, maybe.”

It is half-hearted, and nervous, anxious, but neither point it out. “Maybe.”

“Then— bye.”

Lilo and Purri say nothing as she walks quickly down the hall. It is hard not to break into a run, and she can’t even do it after she turns the corner. The boots are loud, the heels speak of her presence, and they would have known. She will not let them think she was running away, because she wasn’t, not really. She was beating a tactical retreat, maybe, but Bil doesn’t want to think she was running away from her friends.

  
  
  


There is a disturbance at the entrance to the kitchen, but Bil ignores it in favor of scrubbing at the silverware she is in charge of. There is a stack of clean, dry rags next to her sink and a container of polish to use after cleaning them. Her hands have odd, new calluses and underneath the running water her skin feels dry. The voices by the entrance rise in volume and Bil glances over, sure that she’s not the only one in the kitchen curious as to what’s going on.

It’s Fili and Kili, arguing with a couple chefs. Bil glances around and sees Bombur making his way over. The noise tames down and everyone seems to quiet their work, turning taps off and stopping murmured instructions or conversations to see what the princes are here for.

“We’re here to visit someone,” Fili announces, regal pride in his voice.

“I’m afraid I can’t allow it, your highness,” Bombur argues smoothly, sending a searing glance around the kitchen. The noise picks up a little, but the conversation can still be heard clearly throughout the spacious room and Bil turns her back to the conversation and focuses on the silverware. She gets halfway through a spoon before her ears are pricked back on the conversation.

“We can if we want to,” Fili pipes in. “We’re the princes.”

“You might be princes,” Bombur replies, voice a knife. “But, as granted by the King, your grandfather, the kitchen is my domain. Not yours.”

“We’re just here to see somebody, ask them how they are,” Kili wheedles, recognizing the futility of using power and switching to slyer tactics. “Won’t you let us?”

His expression must be winsome, because Bombur sighs. “Who is it?” The princes have won, with a simple look.

“The maid Blueberry.”

She freezes. Those near her start staring at her and Bil swears she can hear Sofya’s shocked gasp and angry hisses at her close-by friends.

“Yes, Blueberry, is she here?”

Her hands turn methodical; she rinses the soap from her hands and dries them off. Bombur calls her a few moments later, when she’s gripping the edge of the counter and telling herself to breathe. She walks past all of the chefs, the maids, her head low. She feels cowed, and her attempts to shrink herself, make herself less and less and less without being truly able to, furthers a feeling of loss, of losing. By the time she reaches the princes, her shoulders are hunched and she is staring at the ground; she executes her curtsy like that.

“You’re to come with us,” Kili claims imperiously and his proclamation is followed by a thwack and an ‘ow.’

“As long as we’re not disturbing your work,” Fili adds. “Are you available?”

Bil glances at Bombur. “I was cleaning the silver, your highnesses, and my availability is not my decision.”

Bombur is looking at her with something akin to regret, or sadness, and then he’s looking back at the princes. “She is free for the rest of the day. Go on, lass, see to the prince.” She nods, bobbing a quick curtsy and follows the princes as they leave the kitchen.

An arm is thrown around her shoulder quickly, and then another; the sudden weight and slight push causes her to trip, landing with sprawled limbs on the floor. Her chin hurts from banging the floor, as do her knees. She doesn’t move for some moments, shocked, and Bil supposes the princes are shocked too because they don’t do anything for a moment. Then, all of a sudden, they are apologizing profusely.

“Oh, Blueberry, we’re so sorry! Are you okay?”

“Do you need help? We’re sorry!”

There is a hand on either arm and she’s being hauled to her feet. “I’m fine,” she mumbles, a hand going to her jarred chin. Her teeth ache slightly and the slightest pressure on her jawbone causes spikes of pain.

Fili and Kili’s eyes are worried when she meets them. “Really, I’m fine,” she insists, putting her hands down, recalling a spell from her book for dealing with pain, drawing it out with a tap of a finger and then storing it in something else. She’ll use it later, when alone.

They step back hesitantly, their hands stretched out in case she falls again. She tries to take heart in that. “But, your highnesses, could you tell me what you needed me for?”

“You’ll see when we get there,” Fili says, a touch conspiratorially.

Kili even leans towards her with sparkling eyes, ruddy cheeks pushed upwards from the force of his smile. “It’s a big deal.”

She stares at them nonplussed. “I’m sorry, but— will I be in trouble?”

They both shake their heads and all of a sudden she’s being ushered down the hallway, hands gently pushing her along now and then. Her knees protest now and then; they must notice the slight grimaces on her face because they slow down somewhat and they somehow arise four floors without four different flights of staircases.

The hallway they stop at is lushly decorated, much like the hallways Dis’s quarters are in, with rich wall hangings and beautifully molded sconces. The lights flicker gently, the light softer and warmer than those in the hallways she’s more accustomed to. She can’t figure out where she is, much less why.

“Now, Blueberry, you have to promise us something.”

She shakes her head before Fili’s even done speaking. “I won’t promise something when I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep it.

They nudge each other with smug grins. “Knew it,” Kili sing-songs. “Knew we could trust her.”

She purses her lips, a retort in mind, but Smaug haunts her more than she admits and she remembers being stuck to the ground. She knows these two wouldn’t harm her; Fili and Kili are two genuine boys, but fear is insidious and can taint anything.

“Behind this door is Uncle Thorin,” Fili says, eyes steady on hers. She tries not to let her breath catch in her throat, but it does. It is a near impossible struggle to push it down.

“And? Why have you brought me here?”

There’s a slight smile on Fili’s face now, and a matching one on Kili’s. “He needs a companion. Who that will be is a decision which has been left to us and we have chosen you.”

This can’t be true; her first belief is that it’s an elaborate prank by the two princes, because she’s seen them rolling on mud and popping right back up with messy grins. She’s heard stories about the stunts they pull, jumping from heights, tripping those they don’t like; the list of their deeds go on and on. A prank is the most obvious answer, yet there’s no punch-line, no carpet sweeping and their eyes are earnest.

“Why me?” Her voice comes out thick. She can’t even imagine seeing Thorin again. He has become a fantasy of the best life could offer her, squashed until near invisible, and it is rearing it’s beautiful, monstrous head once more. If only— if only she could cure his blindness, then maybe, just maybe—

Bil, ruthless, kills it. Erebor is not a place for impossible fantasies. She is a maid in Erebor, and he the blind Crown Prince. For how much longer, no one seems sure, but the gap is unbreachable. There will be nothing. She is here for one reason: for Nori, for his grand heist, the pinnacle of his career. It is a debt she owes and it is a debt she will gladly pay.

“We like you.”

“You’ve met me once,” she retorts, arms rising to cross themselves. “You have no reason to trust me.”

“In my experience, those who argue against their trustworthiness tend to be the most trust-worthy.”

“Maybe,” she admits with a forced careless shrug. “Maybe those people aren’t me. What if I’m actually here to steal?”

They laugh. It was a good idea, though one said without much forethought. Plant the idea as ridiculous.

“Our Uncle is past those doors and he needs help,” Kili adds, face a mirror to his brother’s. “We think that you, above anyone, can help him.”

Again, she asks, “why?”

“Your name is the same as someone who is important to him.”

The reaction to this is impossible to control. Her heart constricts, breathing gets hard, and she feels the pain in her knees and chin fade away. They’re talking about her; they don’t know it’s her, but they remember her. There’s no one else. Blueberry isn’t necessarily uncommon, but how many Blueberry’s would they know? None, she would wager. It’s a commoner’s name, from outside of Erebor. She would wager on her being the first they had met and then the second.

“Important in which way?” Needy and thready, that’s what her voice is, and she raises a hand to her mouth as though embarrassed, but it’s to hide the tremor she can’t control.

“He—” Fili begins, but stops himself, shaking his head. Kili stares at Fili helplessly. “That’s not for us to say. Now, we have chosen you. Will you do this?”

She wants to say no. That’s what the logical part of her brain is saying, but it is overpowered so strongly by her heartbeat and the rush of blood in her veins that it is a murmuring stream versus a roaring river. It never had a chance. Later, when her heart has calmed and her logic is once more the steady course it is, she will regret this. This is a complication.

“Yes. I will.”

Fili and Kili grin at each other; they are beautiful boys, Bil thinks fondly. They are similar to their mother; Bil knows Dis little, but she knows the soft smiles and the questions about her health that are beyond perfunctory. They care about everything with full hearts; they probably remember childhood pets old and infirm with that age fondly and take care of them still. They still care about a girl in a tower, tall and out of reach, but needing their care. They are all alike, these Durins: Dis, Fili, Kili and Thorin.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!!!


	15. Chapter 15

The door in front of Bil is both literal and metaphorical. When she opens it, as it is when and not if, her life will change forever. It will change her life; she will go through these double doors as one person and exit as another. She doesn’t know what will happen, but she knows this.

Like most things in Erebor, the doors are exquisite work. Her fingers go forward on their own and gently brush over the smoothed carvings. There are animals Bil doesn’t recognize and she’s sure they’re from Ereborean mythology she’s not privy to as an outsider. In the middle of the knocker is a large ruby; if she were Nori, it would be a great temptation, she would covet it, but Bil is drawn to different things. Jewels are cold and temporary; she cannot be warmed by jewels and her stomach cannot be filled with them. She could sell the jewels, but they bore her as well. Bofur’s toys are prettier and they hold more warmth, more meaning. She had brought the little dragon given to her so long ago now and keeps it under her pillow as a sort of charm.

She wishes she had it now, to comfort and calm her before she opens the doors. Fili and Kili are elsewhere, beyond other doors. They trust her, which is scary. They hardly know her, yet there is a kind of trust; they are naive, wonderful boys, and somehow Bil knows more about how the world works than they do.

Her hand is on the handle and Bil doesn’t let herself think before she pushes. There is no noise, just eerie silence, and the room inside is dim. Light from behind her spills forward, causing sharp reliefs and long shadows. Before her reaction would be to extend her finger and use magic, but after weeks in Erebor, the urge has been squashed. She tip-toes in, taking in the large, leather armchairs that look uncomfortable, the cold grate of a fireplace and wall hangings that pile and pool at the conjunction of wall and floor. There is another door on the far side, closed, and a desk to the left. Papers are strewn across the top and the floor, some of them scrunched and ripped. She can’t see the chair she assumes accompanies it, but she can see a stretched shadow that indicates it’s been knocked to the floor.

The room feels uneasy, but empty. She continues forth slowly, limping slightly from her bruised knees. The pain is mostly forgotten there and in her chin, though she knows she will find bruises later. She’s at the desk, glancing over the papers, when a growl comes from an armchair.

Her breath catches; it’s Thorin, it has to be. His hair is not pulled back into a ponytail, but it as dark as she remembers, darker than the night sky above her Tower. His hands are gripping the arms of the chair he’s sitting in tightly and the light from the room beyond has thrown his face in stark shadow, like much of the room. His clothes are in a bad state, ripped and the like, but it’s his eyes that make her gasp.

They are blue. They are very, very blue, a mid-day blue with no clouds, bright and keen, and she keeps on comparing him to the sky, no matter how apt. They are blue but they are wild and they dart around, not focusing on anything and his expression follows suit.

Thorin looks miserable and furious and Bil wants to help him. A debt for a debt, she could say, but it’s more than that. She resolves further to find something for his eyes, because this cannot do. This will not do. She doens’t know how long it will take, but she will discover what caused this and then find the cure. So Bil swears.

“Who is it?”

“The maid,” she says, trying for soothing and taking a step forward.

“A maid,” he grunts, a twist in his face. “I don’t need a maid, as I’ve told the maids before you. What need do I have of cleanliness if I am not able to see it?”

“I— I’m not sure that’s the reason your nephews brought me here.”

“My nephews?” He echoes, but then his face turns stricken. “Your voice— you sound like her.”

“Her?”

His face quickly shuts down and turns into an impassive she recognizes. He was a rock before, and though he is shattered in front of her now, he maintains the pretense. “It is of no matter.”

“If you’d like to talk of her, I’m willing to listen,” Bil offers, edging closer and a tentative hope blooming. “I’m sure I was brought here to help in any way possible.”

He huffs and his eyes flutter closed. His arms raise to cross over his chest. “The past is the past; I will talk no further of this matter.”

She curtsies, then realizes a moment later that he can’t see it. Silence hangs between them and she’s not sure how to break it.

“I guess I’ll clean this place up, then?”

“I said there’s no need,” Throwin growls, standing up suddenly and giving her a piercing glare. At first she quails, but he does nothing. His eyes aren’t focused and are just aimed in her direction; it is a heartbreaking sight.

“Maybe for you,” she shrugs. “What about those who visit? What if there are shards of glass on the ground?”

Thorin thumps back into his armchair with a hunted expression. She is too compassionate by far, she realizes as she watches him school his expression blank. She wants to fix this more than anything, more than Nori’s heist, more than finding out about Mother, more than anything. She wants to help him.

When Bil moves around the room, righting things tipped over and struggling with the wall-hangings, she steps loudly. It isn’t terribly difficult with the little heels of the boots she wears, and she notices that Thorin’s head moves as she does. The wall-hangings are more of a difficulty, though, as she discovers they are at least twice her size.

“I’m sorry,” Thorin says suddenly and she nearly drops the heavy cloth. “I took my anger out on you. I apologize.”

“It’s okay,” Bil replies, voice muffled through a wall hanging. The more she shifts the fabric, the more she thinks about using magic. He’s blind, so how would he know?

“No. It is not.”

“Your Highness has gone through a lot recently,” Bil says, finally just dropping the hanging. “It is understandable that you have a lot of anger.”

She can see Thorin shake his head, face turned towards her, and he closes his eyes. “That is no excuse. You should not be made a target simply because of that.”

Bil can’t help but smile widely. “Your Highness is kind.”

He grunts, but says nothing further. After staring, a little helplessly, around the room, Bil finally points her finger at the wall hanging draped at her feet. She concentrates and is able to pull it off silently; the wall hanging rises and has soon righted it out and hangs handsomely on the wall. It’s a pretty thing, thick with embroidery and resplendent with many colors. The dim light seems to make it beautiful, and Bil is unsure of what her opinion would be if it was brightly lit in here. Thorin says nothing and after a glance, Bil takes heart and uses magic to lift the rest of the wall-hangings.

He speaks when she is nearly done. “Kindness is only sometimes a virtue. Sometimes it doesn’t work out.”

“Your Highness?” Bil asks, concentration slipping and the wall-hanging falling to the ground. “What do you mean?”

“Sometimes kindness can be a knife in the back, is what I mean,” Thorin gruffly replies. “Kindness can be wonderful, but kindness does not achieve anything. It was kindness that got me here, blinded, of no use to anyone, much less to my people.”

“I— I don’t understand.”

He laughs, sharp and bitter. She doesn’t know why, but it hurts to hear it. “You are a simple maid my nephews brought in, most likely because you sound so much like her. It is of no matter to you.”

Bil steps closer to him; the clack of her heels are loud in the room, but Thorin just broods in his chair. She wonders how long he has sat there for. “It matters, Your Highness, because I care. We care, your people, we all want to help.”

The brooding expression takes a while to lighten, and when it does it is only a little. Bil takes heart anyways. “What’s your name?”

“Blueberry, Your Highness.”

There is nothing, and then there is another laugh. This one is angry, furious even and he stands a moment later. “Blueberry is it. My nephews are cruel indeed. I bet you even look like her, don’t you?”

“Y-your Highness?” Her voice is high with nerves and timid.

“Don’t talk,” he commands coldly and points to the door she had come through. “You are done for today. Next time you come, if you do at all, you are not to talk to me.”

“C-certainly, Your Highness,” Bil whispers, curtsying. She knows he can’t see, but curtsies have become something to protect herself, to hide behind. Curtsies are habit, they are practice, they are a symbol of her low status. There would be no point in revealing who she is; even if hope is cruelly blossoming because it sounds like Thorin had gone to see her and became blind through the effort, nothing could happen. She is a commoner, less than a commoner, and he probably only cared because of her oddity.

She flees the room. Fili and Kili are not nearby and, without knowing what it is she is supposed to do now, she flees to her room.

  
  
  
  


That night she eats with Lilo and Ella; it is a subdued dinner. Lilo is silent, picking at his meals and Bil’s mind is full of Thorin and Ella, picking up cues, only asks for the salt. She thinks that maybe she should pretend that everything is fine, but everything is so not okay that she can’t make herself do anything.

It is when Lena slides into the seat next to her with an energetic smile that Bil perks up a little. Lilo stares at her, she notices, but Bil decides to ignore it.

“Good news!” Lena is excited, which is an indication that the news is possibly actual good news or just normal news. “Come on, you all look so grumpy, smile a little!” If Purri were here, Bil thinks, Lena would have aimed a sly little smile at him.

“I had a long day,” Bil comments, scrunching her nose. “I don’t feel much like smiling.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember the Princes earlier. What did they want?”

It is to be secret; Bil remembers this. “They made a mess and wanted me to clean it up without telling anyone,” she lies airly. When she had first come to Dale, lying had been difficult; when had it become so much easier? When had lying become more comfortable than the truth?

“Sounds like the Princes,” Lena replies with a wink. Lilo grimaces across from Bil and she ignores that too.

“You’ve talked to the Princes?” Ella whispers, looking awed. The awe makes Bil feel uncomfortable and she shifts in her seat.

“Yeah, I have.”

“Are they as handsome as the rumors say?”

“I-I guess,” Bil mumbles, glancing at Lena. “Why, you interested?”

She wrinkles her nose. “Too out of my league. Could you even imagine, a Prince with me? Never. It would never happen.”

Bil tries not to flinch, but she’s not too sure she succeeds and so desperately tries to change the topic. “What’s this good news you have?”

“Oh,” Lena perks up. “Guess! Have a guess, please?”

“I really have no idea.”

Lena then turns to Lilo and Ella, who both look like they really don’t want to answer. “How about you two?”

“Uh, free whiskey with dinner?” Lilo suggests. Bil giggles and Lilo’s expression lightens a little.

Lena sighs and rolls her eyes. “No, just no. Ella, do you have a guess?”

Ella, timid Ella with golden hair like her brother, glances at him and then at Bil. “Maybe a holiday?”

Lena gives her a bright, wide smile. “Close enough! We have permission to go to Dale this weekend.”

Bil’s heart stutters— she can see her brothers again? See Bofur again, maybe stop by and say hello to Gandalf? “Really?” Bil demands, gripping Lena’s shoulder. “Are you positive?”

Her grip is too tight because Lena winces and tries to shrug her hand off. “I’m positive, Blueberry, absolutely positive.”

“I can see my brothers,” she whispers. “I’ll see the sky—” She cuts herself off and lets go of Lena’s shoulder. “I have to pack,” she says, glancing around the cafeteria. Everyone is talking, as though normal, the cream walls glowing a little with light. It’s always a nice sight, seeing everyone gathered and relaxing, but all Bil can see now is the unnatural light and how she aches to see blue skies and grass, trees growing tall, bark rough under her fingers. She wants to walk cobblestoned paths again; she wants to warm her room with a pointed finger and a little thought.

Bil had dismissed the homesickness from her so many times that it all comes roaring back. She hadn’t felt quite like this when she left the Tower, which makes her think that the Tower wasn’t ever really her home.

“Woah, hold up there,” Lilo cries as she starts to dazedly stumble away. Lena catches her wrist and pulls her back. “The weekend’s still some days away. There’s no need to pack yet.”

“You’re all from Erebor,” Bil murmurs, looking at Lilo but not quite seeing him. “Do you know what it’s like? To not see the sky, to not feel the sun, the grass, to be in an open space without end?”

Lilo’s staring at her and slowly she focuses on his eyes. They’re blue, like Thorin’s, but he can clearly see her in front of him; he sees her and he recognizes her, knows her. It reminds her of the oath she swore to herself, of finding a cure for Thorin and she yanks her wrist back from Lena. “It might be some days off,” Bil says with a half-smile, tentative and quiet. “But that is much closer than I ever thought it would be.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is much shorter! I haven't been at my best lately and then I found one of my fav games for mac and was so excited that's all I could think about for some time :x trying to stay on track with at least one chapter per two weeks, I decided to post this as is! hope you enjoy xoxo


	16. Chapter 16

That night Bil’s sleep is restless. Dale haunts her mind, as well as thinking how seeing her brothers will go. Will they smile, will they be glad to see her? She needs something of a plan to tell Nori, because she doubts he’d be satisfied with knowing the golden shades of Lilo’s hair and the Purri’s crooked smile that tells of a joke. He doesn’t need to know about Smaug, no one does, and she definitely won’t bring up any of the royal family she’s met. Dis might be a safe topic, but there will be no talk of Fili or Kili, and there will especially be no talk of Thorin.

Thorin causes her heart to ache anew and makes her toss in her narrow bed once again.

She has a feeling she will be waylaid by Fili and Kili tomorrow morning on her way to the kitchens and be informed that her new job is to attend to their uncle. She has a feeling that they do know who she is and are just biding time until they can reveal it at the most opportune moment. Above all, she does not want that. She does not want there to be some great reveal the slightest; she doesn’t want them to ever know who she is. She just wants to be Blueberry, the maid from the kitchens, the stranger and foreigner who didn’t know how to curtsy just right when she arrived.

Her bed might be narrow but when she curls into a ball, her knees do not hang over the edge of the mattress. She might have forgotten her letters in her Tower, for Mother to find perhaps, but she carries them in her heart as a secret to go over in quiet moments like this. Thorin is a secret she will carry to her grave, whenever and wherever that may happen to be, Erebor, Dale or somewhere else in this world.

And isn’t that a thought? It is more comforting than anything else that has crossed her mind; it is more comforting than a blue sky and the promise of sunlight, better than seeing her brothers. She can go anywhere in the world and she could live her life out there for her cowardice is a truth she is just starting to realize. She is too scared to deal with the aftermath revealing herself would cause.

She wants to see the world and, one day, she will. Bil promises herself this. Ereboreans might be satisfied with their mountain and their gold and jewels, the people of Dale can love their hawking, Artisan stalls and be self-satisfied with their place in the world, but not Bil. She will travel the world.

This desire blooms in her chest and it is to the thought of reclaiming a life she never had that she falls asleep and when she wakes in the morning, it is as though she is a different Bil. Not outwardly, and she won’t be different in any way others can notice, but her determination to travel the world and, by doing so, discovering herself, has changed her.

  
  


“You seem different, happier,” Fili squints at her when he and Kili predictably waylay her the next morning. “Did something good happen yesterday?”

“Am I not allowed to be happy?” She asks archly, but shrugs the comments about to spring to their lips away. “I’ll get to see my brothers this weekend. I haven’t seen them in…” She doesn’t say how long, because the time that has elapsed is unbearable. It is long, months almost. It’s longer than anytime she had gone without Mother in her Tower. “A long time.”

The brothers look at each other over her head. “I can’t imagine,” Kili murmurs.

“People with blessings never quite realize them until they lose them,” Bil replies, arching an eyebrow at him.

“Is this a sly reference to something?” Fili replies, raising his own eyebrow.

She shrugs. “Only if you want it to be. It’s the price of privilege, not necessarily a good or bad things. It is what it is.”

“Everyone has privilege of some sort, though.”

Again, she shrugs. “I’m not as learned as you two, so you’d probably know more about that than me.”

“A maid who can read, though, is a rarity.”

“Am I to attend to Prince Thorin again?” She quickly changes the topic. “What, exactly, am I to be doing with him?”

They grin wickedly at each other. “Nothing.”

“And anything.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Thank you for the illumination, your highnesses.”

“You are to provide him company,” Fili adds, with a small bump as they continue on their way to Thorin’s chambers. “Talk to him, do any tasks he asks of you and, as you did yesterday, cleaning the place up would be a great help.”

Realizing, she whispers, “I’m to help him rehabilitate.”

Fili looks at her sideways, a little down his nose. She knows the silly Fili, the one who plays with his brother and to whom nearly everything is a joke, but this Fili is much more regal, authoritative. Bil recalls that he is second in line for the throne. First is Thorin, then him. He must have been raised differently than his brother, and she is momentarily glad that the two still have close a relationship as they seem to.

“Yes, you are. I’ve discussed this with my mother, the Lady Dis, as well as various other advisors. We have decided you might be the best.”

“But that doesn’t make sense,” she protests, stopping. Kili stops immediately and Fili, now the heir instead of the playful friend, if that’s what they are, takes a couple and then turns to face her. It’s almost as though this way they are equals, though Bil doesn’t think it’s possible. Fili is a prince and what is she? A commoner, if even that. A thief, a criminal, a girl who knows nothing of the world.

They stare at each other for a few moments. “I might not know who you are,” Fili finally says. His voice is quiet, almost sad and his eyes flicker to Kili’s for naught but a moment. “But I think I do. If you’re not willing to come forth, then none of us will push.”

“Y-you—” Bil can’t even make herself finish the sentence. This changes things. If they’ve talked to others, does this mean Dis knows? Does this mean there are others in this underground city who also know?

“My uncle knows nothing, suspects nothing. But if I’m right, and if my mother believes this is the answer, then everything will be fine.” He smiles brightly; he’s like a sun, she absently things. His face is transformed from the previous serious expression. His teeth show, brilliant and his face honestly looks so pleased. The light shining from behind him makes his golden hair seem halo-ish.

“I will probably fail you,” she says, because with that smile in front of her, she must be the dark night that swallows everything. Everything bad happens at night, she thinks, and the heist that huddles dark in her heart is a predator that hunts at night.

Kili grips her shoulder softly. “We don’t think failure is even possible at this point.”

“Our uncle is at that point,” Fili admits. “I hate to tell you this, especially as I was told not to speak of it, but you are our last hope.”

She is a last, wild, desperate hope and she knows she will fail them. She cannot truly help Thorin with what they want her to. She cannot help him in the world, cannot help him deal with his blindness in front of other people. Thorin is not the type to accept such a thing as acceptable and he will never be okay with it. However much she might fail at any attempt of rehabilitation, Bil will not fail in curing the blindness though. She will not.

  
  


If Fili is the sun and if Bil is the night, that must mean Thorin is the moon. But that seems wrong, somehow. If Bil is the night, and this symbolism is getting a bit heady for her, getting to be too much, then she would cradle Thorin to her chest. That would never happen, Bil knows as she looks at Thorin’s frowning face for the second day. He is too proud. It’s why rehabilitation the way the princes want is impossible.

“What was your name?” Thorin asks suddenly.

“Blueberry, your highness,” she murmurs quietly, pausing while tidying papers to give a small curtsy.

“Louder, I can’t hear you,” he growls irritatedly.

“Blueberry, your highness.”

His expression doesn’t change, but he murmurs, “You truly seem here to tempt me.”

“Your highness?”

He sighs. “It is uncanny,” he says in the same, quiet, under-breath manner and continues in a louder voice, a vein of desperation in his tone. “Do what my infernal nephews want you to do here, clean, or whatever it is they told you, but do not speak to me.”

“Your highness?”

Thorin’s expression clouds over quickly. “Would you stop that? Is this all you’re capable of saying?”

Bil takes a step backwards, hands clenching at her sides. The moons of her nails dig into her skin. “No, your highness.” A quaver is in her voice and his expression tightens underneath the clouds.

“Balin might have told you something, or perhaps my sister, but I don’t necessarily prefer standing on formality, especially in my lowered, disabled state. I like simplicity. Sir is fine.”

Blind doesn’t mean lowered, Bil longs to say. Blind means there are new vistas to explore, that tone takes on more meaning and that food should taste even better— she’s imagined being blind long enough and sat in her room with a blindfold over her eyes to believe this to be true. But this is Thorin, Heir Prince of Erebor. Here she is Blueberry, lowly maid from outside, from Dale, almost the lowest of the low. She doesn’t get to talk to him like that.

“Sir Balin requested I call him simply and I am not well acquainted with your sister, Your— sir.”

Thorin’s eyebrows draw together momentarily, then clears. His face is blank, but she can tell he’s controlling his features with intense concentration. “It was Smaug, wasn’t it?”

Just the mention of his name recalls that moment in the hallway, utterly powerless and magicked to the spot. She remembers the vivid eyes and the cruelty in his face. Bil’s not sure who she’s scared of most anymore: Mother or Smaug. “No, sir, it wasn’t.”

The downwards curve of his mouth tells her he doesn’t believe her, but her answer is no because Thorin is not to tangle with Smaug. Smaug is dangerous and Thorin is low; Bil imagines it would not take much for him to knock Thorin out of the picture all together and, through that, take control of Erebor. She might not like the place much, but she loves the Durin’s and most of the people. She loves Thorin and his nephews, she loves Lena, Purri and Lilo have become close to her heart, and Bil doesn’t think she could have lasted more than a week in this under-mountain city if not for Bombur.

And that downwards curve tells her that Thorin is like her: he loves the people. Erebor is his home and calls to him because of that, but if Thorin cares for the safety of a mere maid like her, she finds it easy to believe he cares thus for the rest of the city.

“You’re a sweet girl,” Thorin says, face slack and shadows under his eyes become glaringly obvious. “But I don’t know why you’re protecting him.”

It is protection, but not of Smaug. Bil feels it in her bones that she will get her revenge on Smaug in her own way; despite the powerlessness she feels, Bil knows she is not powerless. She has magic, just like him, and when the time comes she will use everything she knows against him.

  
  


Bil feels like it is more than coincidence that she finds Smaug in her room that evening. Her feet are sore and her heart is aching from watching Thorin for most of the day. At dinner she had been quiet and Lena had tried to draw her into conversation, but it had been fruitless.

He’s leaning casually against her wall, a vague smile on his face that sharpens when he sees her. He pushes off the wall and his long legs have him in front of her in a moment. Despite hating him, hating what he stands for and what he’s trying to do, Bil finds she can’t move. She’s too surprised and, when he raises a hand and rests it almost lovingly on her cheek, absolutely terrified.

“Oh, dear Blueberry, you have such a charming, quaint room.”

“Your magnificence,” she chokes out. “To what do I owe the honor?”

His fingers trace over her skin and his index finger taps her chin. It is so easy to stand still and let him do it; Bil hates herself for it.

“I’ve heard you’ve started working in the Heir Prince’s rooms.”

She doesn’t answer and keeps her face as blank as she can.

“It doesn’t matter whether you answer or not, I know it to be true.” He smirks and chills run through her body. His finger stops tapping, but he just moves to grip her chin. She can sense that she hasn’t been magicked, but his hold is firm and she doubts anything good would come of moving away. “You really do have such a pretty face, and such lovely, lovely hair. What color would you say it is?”

“I wouldn’t be sure, your magnificence. I don’t pay much attention to it.”

He looks surprised or shocked, but Bil doubts the veracity of either possibility. “Why, a girls life is her hair! I should like to see you with long hair.”

“I’m afraid I like my hair short, your magnificence,” Bil bites out and the hand withdraws. “And I’m sorry to be impertinent, but may I ask why you’re in my room?”

“The Durins do like them impertinent, don’t they,” Smaug muses, eyes roving over her face. It’s a dangerous expression, moving into something akin to hunger. “Oh, maid Blueberry of Dale, I would hate for something to happen to you.”

“It would be unfortunate, your magnificence.”

“Ah, it would be. So be careful with the cute mouth of yours, hmm?”

It’s a threat, she realizes. A threat for her to keep her mouth shut, probably about him magicking her illegally, unless there’s more to this than that. He settles his hands on her waist and, without thinking, she takes a step back, almost out of her room. The last time she’d been so intimately touched was when she was dancing, so long ago at the Winter Festival. It had been fun then, with people who smiled at her and didn’t frighten her, but Smaug is vicious and she doesn’t want him touching her. The entire situation reeks to her.

“I’m always careful, but, your magnificence, I still don’t know why you were in my private room.”

“So impertinent,” he sighs. “I don’t know if I like it. I prefer flattery.”

“It seems your magnificence isn’t aware of this, but I’m not here to please you.”

His eyes sharpen in their gaze and he takes a hunting step forwards, upper body tilting down so their heads are more even. “You would do well to learn not to get in my way, Blueberry of Dale. I don’t know why you’re here, but I know you to be more than just a maid, and I will discover your secret.”

She can’t keep his gaze; her eyes drop and she stares at his odd, red shoes. “I have no secrets, your magnificence,” she whispers.

“A girl suddenly comes from Dale, a place that is accepted as necessary but disliked in general, and somehow lands a position close to the royal family. You have goals and you should not interfere with my own.”

She has never heard vowels so clearly enunciated and hard consonants such emphasis; it produces a chilling effect, which Bil is quite sure the intention was. “I shan’t, your magnificence,” she murmurs, curtsying. “I would never try to meddle in the affairs of one such as you,” she adds quietly, eyes flicking up to look at the self-satisfied smile that curls his lips. He said he prefers flattery after all. As much as Bil hates this, finds this the most distasteful thing in the world, as much as doing this feels like giving in to a man who would not respect her personal space and has an affinity for touching her without her permission, she can’t do anything about it now. She will bide her time. In the end, that’s what her time in Erebor is. Scouting for Nori’s heist, finding a cure for Nori, insinuating herself in the society here: all of this is waiting for the right moment.

“We will meet again,” he says. She can hear his satisfaction in his voice, his belief that he has her where he wants her and she can also hear how pleased he is. He believes her, that she thinks he is powerful, and his opinion on flatterers is shed under a different light.

Bil gracefully moves to the side and Smaug exits, his mantle swishing behind him and brushing against the skirts of her dress. She immediately wants to shed the clothing and give it a vigorous wash; it goes even stronger for where she can still feel a slight warmth on her waist from his palms and the path his fingers had taken on her face.

She is reminded, once again, of how cross-dressing made her life simpler in Dale. Bil knows it shouldn’t be so, that it isn’t a solution because she is a woman, with breasts, monthlies, things impossible to hide and dream away with fantasies of an easier life. She shouldn’t feel like she needs to have a facade to feel safe on the streets.

When she can no longer hear the click of his shoes walking away, she closes her door softly and starts to franticly go through her things. The thought had been lurking in the back of her mind the entire time— had Smaug gone through her room, through her meager possessions? Did he see her things from Dale, did he see Bofur's dragon or, much worse, had he taken any of it? She rips through her belongings, rifling through the clothes that had been folded neatly and leaves a mess behind.

The dragon is where she had swaddled. The edges have started to wear smooth because it is a good memory, a reminder of the stalls and Bofur's kind smile and days spent hawking his goods. But, although her things had been neat, her clothes folded, Bil does not take heart in the possibility that Smaug hadn't known it was there. He had probably gone through it regardless— or maybe this is a mind game. Reminded of the letters earlier today, all Bil can be is thankful that she didn't have them anymore. Smaug having known of them would have destroyed everything. She just wishes she could see Thorin's blocky handwriting once more, and she imagines him writing more letters before reality is cruel and reminds her he cannot write any longer. The thought and hope that Thorin lost his eyesight in search of her is secreted in her heart, but it grows with each day. It is a fact that she reminds Thorin of someone, and that the princes might know who she is— it only makes her hope more likely.

But how proud of her to assume such a thing. How proud of her to assume she means anything to a king-to-be, to princes. Again, for the countless time, she buries the hope and possibility as well as the thought of how Thorin might smile for once if it was her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg sorry for the late post!! life sometimes takes over— I was in Kyoto this past weekend!! it was a totally amazing weekend with weather a precursor of the summer to expect here in Tokyo ahaha.
> 
> hope you enjoyed this chapter! I had hoped to get Bil home this chapter, but since I was slow writing this I decided to post it as is. I, unfortunately, tend to be a slow writer :x also also also!!!! stormaggedon_darklordofall drew lovely [fanart](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1702442), back from chapter 4, check it out!!! IT'S LOVELY & I'M VERY HAPPY. thank you so much!!!


	17. Chapter 17

Until Saturday, Bil spends her days akin to a mute. She hardly speaks to Thorin, who mostly sits while she’s in the room, and the princes can pester her all they like but she can remember Smaug’s hands on her waist and on her face and it is not okay. Her friends become her refuge and, late Thursday evening, she sneaks her way to Bombur. The kind, open and generous person he is, he sits her down and chatters away about things that make her think of home and love. These things are what, to her, Bombur and his family personify. There are no questions, just Bombur’s comforting presence.

It is a miracle she makes it at all. She is tense all through Friday, short in her replies to Thorin’s requests without intending to, but glad that he doesn’t comment on it. With Fili and Kili, she ignores their antics and grabs for attention as well as she can and she can hardly sleep that night she itches so much. There is too much to look forward to and in the time that has passed— an interminable, forever amount of time— she wonders what will have changed. Has their hair grown much longer, like hers has? Sometimes Bil doesn’t recognize the tips of hair she sees. The last time she could see her hair, she had cut it off and tied it to the railing to orchestrate her escape. The memory is bittersweet, like most of her memories of the first twenty years of her life.

She does not regret those years, not the way she has been urged to. She doesn’t hate Mother the way she’s told she should, because hate is such a terrible emotion. Bil doesn’t want to hate someone, and she’s seen the way it twists the faces of others, seen it pointed at her for being different in a city where everyone is the same. It is ugly, grotesque and it hurts. She can’t imagine what it’d be like to be the one doing the hating.

Saturday morning, after she slips on her old shoes and old clothes and is waiting with Lena, a glimpse of deep red catches her eyes and it sends an automatic shiver down her spine. Smaug is her first thought, and she wonders if the intense emotion she feels for him is hatred. It seems like it might be, but more than that pity has started to grow for him. To want power so badly is a sad thing to her; there is beauty in the world, in the forests, faraway mountains she hasn’t seen and the river she remembers vaguely from her hungered-haze. She has seen beauty in Bofur’s easy acceptance of her, the way Ori looks when he talks of Dwalin and the Winter Festival was a celebration of such things. Smaug seems to know none of it and Bil finds that unfortunate. His little intimidation trick was scary but not successful.

Lena chatters away next to her, mentioning Sofya and then, with a deep red in her cheeks, about how she’s thinking of asking Purri to dance at the upcoming party. This catches her attention and Bil wishes it was for Lena and Purri, but that is not why she’s interested.

“What party?”

Lena blinks, long eyelashes fluttering. “The Greenwood Delegation party. They’re coming sometime soon, and there’ll be a large party for everyone.”

“Is this an Erebor thing?”

Lena shrugs; the shawl wrapped around her shoulders, made of delicate lace that Bil has a feeling that Lena made herself, slips down one shoulder. In a graceful move that Bil wishes she could accomplish, she tugs it up. It is feminine and dainty, two adjectives Bil has trouble applying to her own self. She wishes she could be, which is something she realizes she never cared about before coming to Erebor. It’s odd, like much else, and with this Bil know she doesn’t want to go back to her comfortable trousers that allowed her to move so easily. That is part of her, but that part isn’t her right now.

“I suppose so. They come every now and then, I don’t really keep track. Lilo would know more.”

“Li— is Lilo going to Dale today?”

She shrugs again. Bil has a feeling she’s missing something, because this was an inwards shrug, a shrug to deflect and hide. “I don’t know.”

It’s Purri. She should say something about asking Purri, but she doesn’t know what. “So how— I mean— so Purri, huh?” It sounds contrived and a little empty, but Lena jumps on the chance eagerly.

“I don’t think I ever thanked you for introducing us, properly that is. I always wanted to meet him, but I could never work the nerve up to talk to him myself.”

“You like him, then?”

Lena looks down meekly. “Yes. I do. He— he’s very kind.”

“Do you find him handsome?”

Lena peeks a glance at Bil’s face and there must be something funny in her expression because she laughs. “You’re a little older than me, but sometimes you seem so young. It’s the strangest thing.”

She wants to grumble, but she doesn’t. She is young still in ways that Lena will never know and, even if she did, would not understand. How can Bil say that she only knew one person for the first 20 years of her life? That her naivety, her youth, comes from such a lack of experience it sometimes physically embarrasses Bil? Lena would be incredulous and not believe a word out of Bil’s mouth.

“I should go and find Lilo,” she says instead and doesn’t know how to respond to the knowing look Lena levels her. “W-what?”

“You and Lilo,” she says suggestively. Bil blinks.

“What about us?” she hedges.

“You two’re really close, you know. I’ve seen how he looks at you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Bil mutters, blushing. “I need to ask him about this party. I’ve never seen an Ereborean party after all. Besides, we’re just friends.”

“If you say so.” Lena adds a wink and a small elbow nudge.

Scowling at her friend, Bil separates from her and looks for Lilo’s mop of golden curls. She’s smaller than most of those here and it’s hard going, but his hair is easily recognized.

“Lilo!” she calls out. He stops, then glances around with wide eyes. She waves her hand, going on tip toes as she scurries forward to be seen. “Over here!”

His face brightens and then dims when he sees her. Lena’s comments make her a little nervous, but she smiles at him when she finally reaches him. “How are you?” he asks politely as they walk. The gates to reach Dale are just ahead of them.

“Good to be going home,” Bil replies with good cheer. “I heard there is soon to be a party, so even better.”

“Ah, the Greenwood event? It’ll be large and incredibly over-the-top. Everyone’ll be there.”

“Everyone?” Bil asks. “The royals, guards? Even us?”

Lilo nods. “Everyone.”

“Sounds like it’ll be quite the event,” she says after a few moments. “When, exactly, is it?”

Lilo shrugs. “A few weeks, I believe. You’ll probably be hearing more about it from Bombur.”

Bil feels a fresh breeze upon her face and inhales greedily; she nearly runs the small distance to the gates, pushing the others out of her way, and hardly restrains herself. Light is spilling into the interior and the lights she’d become accustomed to are suddenly dim, false. There is nothing like sunlight on your skin and Bil bets that she missed the first blooms of spring, flowers sprouting from the ground, trees growing tender leaves. She had been looking forward to it, the renewal of life, but is too excited to let it keep her down for long.

They pass through the gates and Bil wants to cry when she sees Dale spread out below them. It is maybe another twenty minute walk to reach the town itself and she is tempted to leave Lilo behind. She keeps on edging in front of him and then forcing herself to slow. Lilo finally laughs.

“Go on, Blueberry. No foul done. I know you’re excited to be home.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, peering up at his face. “I’m sure there are nooks and crannies of Dale I could show you.”

He laughs again and looks down at her fondly. “Do not worry about me. I’ve been to Dale plenty of times in the past to know my way about.”

She hesitates and then hugs him, letting go quickly. “Thank you, Lilo.” Then she hurries ahead of the others heading to Dale, nearly tripping over a rock.

 

 

Dale is lovely in spring. The trees that had been stark last time she saw them mostly have full crowns now, with a few lagging in the race. People are smiling, having shed their winter clothes, a little more friendly than the chill winters months make them. Bil thinks she should feel more at home, and it takes her a while to realize what feels different. She might be in her more masculine clothing, the pants and loose, billowy shirt, but she moves as a woman.

She stops in front of a stall. She recognizes it because she used to swipe pastries from it all the time, especially in the cold winter months when they were fresh out of the oven. But now she has coin in her pocket— pay for being a maid in Erebor. She steps up to the man behind the stall and gives him a smile.

“A roll, if you please,” she says demurely.

The man grins at her. “A copper piece for the pretty lady,” he says and hands it over. She cradles it in her hands and frowns.

“Are you sure?” Bil asks, noticing the calluses on the man’s hands. “This is your livelihood.”

His grin turns into a bemused smile. “So it is my choice to give it when I will.”

She gives him a small curtsy. “Thank you, sir,” Bil says and walks away. She is a woman now, when she felt like the woman was a disguise when in Erebor. She doesn’t feel like a woman, not the way Dale citizens read that. She is Bil.

On her way home, Bil nibbles on the roll and feels apprehension and excitement rise in her. The sandstone building is soon in front of her and the roll all gone; she takes a deep breath when in front of the door and opens it cautiously.

Wait, should she have knocked? It’s been so long. She panics, door open and a foot inside.

“Ori? Is that you?” Dori calls, probably from the kitchen. Bil feels her nerves rise and enters fully, shutting the door softly behind her.

“Actually,” she calls back, “it’s me. It’s Bil.”

There’s a clatter, as though something was dropped and soon Dori is in front of her. “Bil!” he cries, face splitting in two from happiness. She smiles back and is soon enveloped in a tight, warm hug.

Bil might not know who she is on the streets, but she knows who she is in this apartment. She is loved here. There is no need for subterfuge; they know who she is, whether she is Blueberry or Bil or Bilba. It doesn’t matter to them and it relaxes her to such an extent that she feels tears start at the corner of her eyes.

“I missed you,” she says, starting to sob. “I missed you and Ori and Nori and Bofur and everyone just so much.”

“Shh, we’re together now, it’s okay,” Dori murmurs, running a hand through her hair. “Your hair is so much longer now!” he exclaims, holding her at arms length and then pinches her cheek. “I can tell they’ve been feeding you well,” he says knowingly.

“Bombur overfeeds me,” she mumbles, brushing his hand away, the sobs fading into hiccups. Her eyes are probably red now, but she doesn’t care. “He overfeeds everyone.”

“Well, go and sit down. I need to hear everything.”

She follows him into the sitting room and sits down, sitting as she did in Erebor before realizing that she doesn’t have to. So Bil moves her legs to sit cross-legged. Dori sits in one of the armchairs.

“So? Tell me everything.”

“Well,” she says, tilting her head. “I’ve made all these new friends.”

Bil tells Dori about Lena, about how she likes Purri, about Lilo and the terrible Sofya. She talks a lot about Bombur, how she has never tasted anything as delicious as his plum candies. She doesn’t talk about how he doesn’t know about her connection to his family; she doesn’t talk about Smaug, about the princes and caring for Thorin. When done, he looks happy.

“You settled well then.”

She shrugs. “I suppose. Where’s Nori and Ori? I’d like to see them.”

Dori waves a hand. “Who knows where Nori is, but Ori’s working. He wanted to come home for lunch, but I don’t know if he will.”

Bil wants to ask about Dwalin, but doesn’t. “I’ll take lunch out to him, surprise him and all.”

“Good idea,” Dori beams and stands to pack a lunch. “I’ll pack something for you as well.”

 

 

The artisan district bustles the way she remembers it. Every store she passes displays beautiful work and Bil is disappointed to realize that she has seen better work in the halls of Erebor. The tapestries in Thorin’s rooms beat everything she passes. Dale’s art now pales in comparison and it makes her uncomfortable.

But then she sees Ori’s store and scrollwork is something that Dale is superior in, Bil is sure. She peers in the window and her heart stops. It’s Dwalin and he’s standing next to Ori’s desk, looking down on him with affection. No. It’s not affection. It’s more like love.

She can’t go in with Dwalin there. Her hair is long, in a feminine style— a woman is not who Dwalin knows her as. She walks like a woman, not a man, not the Bil that Dwalin knows. She stares through the window a little longer and sees Ori look up at Dwalin with an abashed expression.

Bil pulls aside a passerby and offered them coin to deliver the lunches to Ori and Dwalin. Coin is a powerful tool, Bil discovers, because the young lass eagerly agrees. Then Bil leaves.

 

 

She wants to go by Bofur’s stall, but in her current get up, hips swaying as she walks, curls bouncing at her shoulders, she can’t. She ends up wandering the streets of Dale instead, taking stock of the town in bloom. She’s lucky that today’s weather is clear, because the blue sky above her is heartening. Every few minutes she stops to take a deep breath and marvel in the space around her.

She’s not claustrophobic, but twenty years were spent in an open-air tower. Fresh light and air was all the ever knew. Bil’s almost surprised that she’s not claustrophobic.

“Bil?” She turns and grins back at Nori, who slinks from the shadows to give her a hug— it’s more than a hug, actually, as he picks her up and swings her around. “Ah, my favorite little one is home again.”

“Don’t tease me, Nori, I know the favorite is Ori. I don’t blame you.”

He ruffles her hair and doesn’t comment on the length. Bil is grateful, though she’s not sure why. She’s tired of being defined. “Take a walk with me,” he commands and goes back to the alleyways. Bil follows and soon she has abandoned the sway of her hips, slouching through tight spaces with Nori.

They arrive at an abandoned house. “This is headquarters, isn’t it,” Bil asks with a sigh.

Nori’s eyes twinkle as he smiles. “You’re a clever lass.”

They enter the building and the inside is, thankfully, much cleaner than the outside. He gestures for her to take a seat on a rickety chair and she does, carefully. He sits across from her and leans forward, elbows on his knees.

“So, tell me about Erebor.”

“There’s to be a party in a few weeks,” she says. “For the Greenwood Delegation. I’ve heard everyone is to be in attendance.”

He doesn’t say anything for a few moments then shakes his head slowly. “I appreciate your earnestness for the Erebor plan, but I meant how are _you_. You are more important to me.”

She stares at him then looks to her lap, hands twisting. “I— I’m okay. It’s hard, sometimes, but I persevere.”

He scoots his chair closer and takes her hands in his. “Look at me,” he insists. “Bilba, lass, please look at me.”

She does and can feel tears pricking at her eyes again. “I’m okay, really, I am. I just— there are things that are hard, sometimes, and I miss you and your brothers.”

He squeezes her hands. “We’ll always be here, in Dale, for you.”

That’s the problem, Bil thinks as she takes her hands back and uses them to wipe at her eyes. “I’ll be fine. I am fine, in fact. I’ve made friends. I’m happy enough.”

“That’s good to know. It sets my mind at ease.” Then Nori grins wolfishly. “Now, tell me about this party.”

“I don’t know much, I only heard about it today,” Bil warns. “But I know the guards to the treasury and how to get around. I’ve done well, Nori, I promise you.”

“Good job,” he says and stands. “Now, let’s go for a lark.”

 

 

It is a few hours until sunset when Bil finds her way to Gandalf’s studio. She has questions for him— he is a skilled magician and is probably the best one to go to for Thorin’s problem. She opens the door and peeps in cautiously. He’s teaching a class and Bil double checks her hair is securely tucked underneath a hat she bought for that precise purpose. She slips in and nods towards Gandalf when he looks to see who it is.

He freezes and then claps his hands. “Class dismissed,” he abruptly dismisses. “See you next time.”

People in the class stumble and Bil hears grumbling as they reluctantly gather their belongings. Gandalf strides to her and scrutinizes her face. “Something has changed,” he murmurs softly.

“A lot has,” she admits and they both wait while the last of the class files out of the studio. “Can we talk here?”

“Depends on what you want to talk about,” Gandalf replies with an arched eyebrow.

Bil glances around once more. “It’s about Thorin.”

Gandalf frowns now. “Why don’t we sit down for this.”

There are no chairs in the studio and they end up sitting, cross-legged, in the middle of the studio. Even when cross-legged Gandalf towers over her, Bil thinks sourly.

“He’s blinded,” she states. Gandalf nods.

“They asked me if I could help.”

“And?” Bil asks, agog. “Could you?”

He shrugs. “He does not want help. No one can help him in the state he’s in.”

Bil stares at Gandalf and can’t help but admit that he’s right. Thorin is in a sorry state. She doesn’t know what happened, but something is surely keeping him from recovering. It has something to do with a love lost.

“I’m searching for a cure myself,” she admits quietly. “I need to fix this.”

“Bilba, darling, this is not your concern. Do not worry about this.”

It is too late for pretty words like this, telling her not to fret over something out of her control. And what a word, fret, Bil angrily thinks. She is worried, as is everyone in Erebor, and surely in Dale as well. They are all concerned and if Bil wants to do something, she will do it regardless of other opinions. This concern is no longer just about their exchange in the Tower either; Thorin now needs a rescue and Bil is willingly to attempt one.

“Smaug,” she says after silence had reigned for an awkward moment too long. “What do you know of him?”

Gandalf does not go still, but the sudden calm he seems to exude indicates his panic. “Do not go near him, Bilba. He is dangerous.”

“That wasn’t my question,” she snaps. “What do you know of him?”

“He is not something you can fight,” Gandalf growls. “You are to steer clear of him.”

Too late for that. “There are rumors he is going to try to take the throne. I want to know more.”

Gandalf stands. “I am not going to tell you anymore.”

She shrugs and stands as well. “Fine, Gandalf. Good day.” Bil starts walking for the door.

“Be safe, Bilba, darling,” he says as she checks her hair again.

Bil’s not sure her life has ever been safe, not since her earliest memories. There are fears of Mother, then trying to make her way in a world she knows nothing about. There are more dangers, for sure, but Bil is positive that nothing will scare her more than thinking Mother would never come back again.

Odd, Bil thinks once she’s on the street, leaning in the shadows a ways down from the studio, waiting. The pet names come from the magicians. Mother, Smaug and Gandalf all call her these small, little names; it bothers her. She glances down at the studio, the sun setting to the left of it. There’s a connection between the three of them, she’s positive.

 

 

Waiting is boring, and Bil ends up nicking some fruit and a meat pie while she waits for Gandalf to leave. It is past sunset when she sees him leave, locking the door behind him. It is time to put her magic to the test. She creeps to the door, head ducked low and unlocks the door with some focus and a point. The door opens and Bil swiftly slips in and closes the door behind her.

Moonlight filters into the large, open room, but Bil is positive there is more than meets the eye here. She walks along the walls, knocking now and then, searching as Nori taught her a long time ago. Her movements are clumsy at first, but she soon adjusts and is rewarded when there is a hollow sound. It’s near the back, where few practice.

Everyone keeps secrets; Bil is one amongst many. Gandalf keeps plenty too, Bil knows.

She searches and finds a mechanism that, when pulled, causes the wall panel to swing forward. It reveals a small room with bookshelves from ceiling to floor. Bil enters, closing the panel to mostly closed behind her and starts scanning the spines. There are a lot of titles that don’t make sense to her, feeling esoteric, and names that she doesn’t recognize. There are proper nouns like Galadriel, Rivendell and the Shire. Bil is sure that these are useless to her, but soon comes upon books that are about magic. Carefully she pulls these books out.

 _On Magic_ , the book given to her from Thorin a long, long time ago, is full of spells, but they are mostly general spells. She is looking for spells to do with the body, and her searching turns up fruitful when she finds a book for healing. Bil flips through it gently, the paper fragile under her fingers, and finds spells for eyes, but nothing for blindness.

There is nothing. Bil stares at the page blankly. There has to be a way, though, there _has_ to be. She continues reading through the book and finds a note about the difficulty about blindness—

_As blindness is usually caused by incurable diseases, there is little to nothing that can be done. If blindness is caused by a physical injury, the eye can be restored with great concentration, skill and experience, but the eyesight cannot be restored. There is great damage down to the inner eye that is not possible to cure._

Bil reads this again and again. She wonders how Thorin became blind— in an accident, yes, she knows that, but beyond that? While looking for his love, apparently, but how? Did he fall, and was there a convalescence whilst they cured the physical damage to his eyes?

There are questions. So many questions and they can’t be answered.

She glances at all the magic books laid in front of her and, smirking to herself, places them in a bag. Gandalf might suspect it’s her, but she’ll be long gone before he realizes. She leaves, meticulously closing the wall panel behind her on her way out and makes sure the door is locked again when she leaves.

That night, she returns to Erebor. Bil’s not sure she could bear to spend a night with her three brothers and leave again in the morning. Actually, she is sure, but she doesn’t want to leave them again. It is hard to be amongst them as a girl when Bil’s not sure who she is anymore.

The guards are suspicious, but she mussed up her hair and rubbed her eyes red and wins their sympathy with faked, muffled sobs and returns to her room. As far as she knows, Lena is not back, nor any of her other friends and Bil spends the rest of the night pouring over these new sources of knowledge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yoooo sorry for the long wait! I'm sorry to say that most updates will be like this: irregular :c I'm writing other fic at the moment on top of writing for school on top of research I need to do. who knows, though, I wrote most of this chapter in a day, I'm kind of on a writing roll!
> 
> if you've stuck with this fic since I first started writing it, what, two years ago?, thank you so much. I appreciate it greatly.
> 
>  **ALSO PLEASE NOTE THIS (minor spoilers):** Bilba is no longer genderbent but her identity is gender deviant, as noted in my recently changed tag. this will be explored more as the story progresses. if this makes you uncomfortable, feel free to stop reading. In fact, please stop if my discussion of gender deviance makes you uncomfortable. it will be hard going for Bilba in the beginning, but I promise that things _will_ work out positively for her and in all her relationships.
> 
> thanks I hope you all enjoy and look forward to further developments!


	18. Chapter 18

Sunday is spent avidly reading Gandalf’s books. She gets through three of them when she hears chatter, indicating others returning, and Bil closes her current book with a scrap of paper for a bookmark. None of them have revealed anything that is remotely helpful for blindness, though she has learned a great deal about preparing food with magic and how to get stains out. A lot of the material covered in the books have been theory as well, such as how magic works, how it is passed on, the like.

It’s biological and Bil, again, starts wondering about her origins. Magic is to be inherited, a joyful occasion, and her Mother is yet again suspicious. Mother is, Bil now acknowledges, not her actual mother. Adoption, or something of the like. She can’t puzzle it out and she abandoned all chances of figuring anything out a long, long time ago, when she first left.

She tidies her desk, sheafs of paper with notes are tucked away, out of sight, and goes to the door. A couple of maids pass and nod their heads at Bil as they pass; she nods back. Lena’s probably having dinner, as it’s that late. Her stomach roils uncomfortably and Bil winces. She hasn’t eaten for hours, too focused on the books and finding an answer. Food and her friend in mind, Bil makes her way to the cafeteria.

It’s bustling, as it always is this time of evening. Bil snags some food and carries her plate, walking up and down aisles, looking for Lena. She finds her friend sitting next to Purri and smiles as she taps on Lena’s shoulder.

“Is it okay to sit with you two, or am I interrupting?” she asks with an eyebrow.

Lena blushes. “No, please, sit.”

Bil sits opposite them and starts eating. “How was your weekend?”

“Oh, good,” Lena airily replies, then frowns. “I didn’t see you at all. I tried finding your home, but wasn’t able to find it.”

Bil shrugs, chewing on a raw carrot. “It is difficult to find if you don’t know what to look for. Purri? What did you do?”

He shrugs, sipping from his goblet and takes a furtive glance towards Lena. “Not much. I didn’t go to Dale, actually.”

“Oh,” Bil replies, swallowing the carrot. “That’s a shame.”

“Was it everything you hoped for?” Lena asks, leaning forward, a hand reaching out to rest on hers. There’s a crease on her forehead from worry. “You had a good time?”

“Yeah, I did. It was good to get out of this dark mountain.”

Lena smiles. “Good. I’m glad to hear that.”

Bil smiles back and it cracks a little when the two look towards each other and smile.

 

 

Bil is early to Thorin’s chambers Monday morning after spending most of the night reading through another book. The sitting room is unoccupied; Bil supposes he’s still asleep and gets started. The tapestries are down again and Bil wonders what, exactly, it is that Thorin does that has them on the ground nearly every day. It’s good practice for her magic, but that’s unrelated. Is he that angry?

She has restored two to their positions when Thorin emerges. He’s half-dressed with just trousers on and a shirt dragging on the floor behind him; his face is clouded, eyebrows drawn together. Startled, eyes drawn to his bare chest, Bil loses concentration and drops a tapestry on top of her.

“Ah!” she exclaims, staggering slightly under the weight. These are easily larger than she is herself and isn’t sure how to get out.

“Who’s there?” she hears him bark loudly.

“Uh, sir, it’s Blueberry, the maid? I, uh, I dropped a tapestry,” she replies, lifting it off her head a little as she tries to walk out from underneath it. It’s hard work and eventually she goes to her knees to crawl out. She takes a deep breath when out, stretching her neck. Tapestries are incredibly heavy; she had nearly forgotten since she uses magic to deal with them.

Thorin is staring in her direction, but it’s that unfocused look that he usually has. “Blueberry. Where were you this weekend?”

“In Dale, sir,” she replies, standing up and dusting the knees of her dress. It doesn’t do that good of a job— later she’ll use some of that new cleaning magic to get it out. “Did you miss me?”

He frowns, hand tightening around the collar of his shirt. “Dale?”

“Yes, sir. I’m from Dale.”

He clearly looks surprised. Bil doesn’t know why she expected more. Then the expression turns suspicious. “My cursed nephews,” he mutters. “Did you enjoy your weekend?”

“Yes, it was good to see my family again.”

Thorin nods distractedly, then lifts his shirt. “Could you help me with this? I’m having trouble with the ties.”

“Yes, of course, sir,” Bil says, striding over quickly. He proffers the shirt and shakes it when Bil doesn’t take it immediately. He smells faintly sweaty, like he had slept poorly, tossing and turning through the night. Her hands tremble as she straightens the shirt, trying to keep her eyes on the shirt and focus— to just focus, to ignore his closeness, this proximity, she could just look up towards his face, see the lines that cover his face, the shape of his nose, hair tumbling over his shoulders—

When she does, the first thing she sees is the unfocused gaze of his eyes. He’s staring blankly across the room and it’s a dagger in her heart.

“Arms up, please,” she says quietly, eyes still now. The nerves are gone and are replaced with determination: she _will_ fix this. She will.

Thorin lifts his arms, muscles shifting. She swallows; she’s positive that he could easily lift her if he so wished. Going around, she first slides on one arm and then the other. She returns to the front and buttons it up for him.

“My thanks,” he says when she finishes. He tugs at the hem of the shirt and grimaces as he stretches.

“Would you like me to bring you breakfast?” she blurts. “I can run to the kitchens. I’m very close with one of the chefs.” He stills and she pushes. “It might be presumptuous for me to offer, but I haven’t had breakfast either and we could eat together.”

He remains still for a while and Bil holds her breath, cursing herself. She shouldn’t have offered. She’s a maid, what is she thinking? Why would he want to eat with her, a maid from Dale? Not even from their hallowed Erebor, this cursed mountain with their prejudiced people. He won’t want to eat with her.

“If—” Thorin says then shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Blueberry, but I can’t.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” she says, curtsying and backs away quickly, those heeled boots clacking on the stone floor. “I don’t know what came over me. I’m just a maid.” She laughs deprecatingly and picks up the edges of the tapestry.

“That’s not why I declined,” Thorin says, taking a step towards her but stops at that. “I have a prior engagement to meet with my sister. Perhaps another day. And what did I say about using honorifics?” He smiles teasingly, just a small smile, but a smile nonetheless.

She stares; his expression is transformed with a smile. Ever since she started cleaning his rooms he has been surly and has not smiled even once and that is how she had started to think of him, but this smile changes that impression. He smiled, when she was in her Tower, but that was from far away. He is a different person while smiling— kinder and younger and someone that Bil is more likely to love.

“You said not to use them,” she says, dazed. He shakes his head, his smile still there, and moves to return to his room.

 

 

Bil is early again the next morning, after another night of searching relentlessly. She has to find a cure of some sort. She has to. That smile needs to occur more often and the key assuredly lies in Thorin having his sight returned to him. Bil will engineer that.

“And this morning, sir?” she asks, standing appropriately with her hands clasped behind her back. He was sitting in an armchair when she arrived, legs splayed in front of him, expression dark and forlorn. “Shall I fetch breakfast and shall we eat together?”

“Why not,” he says, almost deprecatingly. “I can’t fetch it myself anyways.”

Bil swallows and dips a quick curtsy before scurrying away. He is in a foul mood this morning and he looks more disheveled than before, hair more of a curling mess than usual.

“Bombur,” she says, flushed and out of breath from running to the kitchens. He glances her way and nods to indicate he’s listening as he maneuvers trays and pans. “I need breakfast for Prince Thorin,” she whispers to him.

That stops Bombur’s movements, just momentarily, as he soon sets everything down and places both hands on her shoulders. “Prince Thorin?” he asks, voice sharp. “You’re serving Prince Thorin?”

She nods, squirming under the tight grasp on her shoulders. “Yes, by request of his nephews.”

Bombur stares searchingly at her face before he breaks out into quite possibly the widest, largest smile she has ever seen on his face. “This is the best news I have heard in months,” he declares and in a few moments he presents her a tray.

“We’ll be eating together,” she adds when she realizes that there is just one plate. “I need a plate.”

He is clearly shocked, but takes the tray back and soon another one is pressed in her hands. “You be careful,” Bombur warns before she leaves. “We all care for the prince, but Smaug will have his eye on you.”

“I know,” she says in a low voice. “I am aware of that already.”

Bombur lets her go with a worried expression and Bil returns to Thorin’s rooms as quickly as she can.

They are a mess and Bil nearly drops her tray from surprise. She had tidied a little this morning, before Thorin had woken up, but it has all been undone. She takes a deep breath and puts the tray down on the only unturned surface. Everything else is in shambles— chairs turned over, the tapestries ripped off the wall again and there are some glass shards where he had thrown what was most likely a cup at the wall. She can’t fathom what had changed in the maybe twenty minutes she was away that would cause a destructive swing.

“I have breakfast,” she calls out as she starts uprighting the furniture, piece by piece. “I’m sure you worked up an appetite,” she adds in a mutter under her breath.

“I don’t want it,” she hears him growl from his bedroom. She sighs and struggles to upright a couch that is upside down. She’s surprised none of the furniture has broken yet, and is corrected when she spies a couple chairs with broken legs and backs in another corner.

This is going to take all day, at least.

“I don’t believe you,” she calls back and moves the tray to one of the higher tables. “Everyone’s hungry in the morning.”

Thorin appears in the doorway, still dressed, but his shirt is ripped from the collar almost to his waist and one of the sleeves is falling down his shoulder. His hair is even more wild and his eyes search the room, but she knows he won’t see her.

“Well I am not,” he growls, taking a cautious step into the room.

“Food is a privilege, sir,” she says, taking the plates off the tray and setting them down across from each other. Bombur had even provided a jug of water with two glasses, which was very nice of him. “The food is available and your are harming everyone by declining, yourself included.”

Now that he has heard her voice, Thorin stalks towards her. She is afraid, but she realizes that she’s not _very_ afraid. Just slightly. His anger isn’t at her and his anger has a clear source— no, what scares her is Smaug.

His hands go to the edges of the table, as though to flip it over again, but Bil grabs his hands. “This food was prepared for you and this table was made for you,” she hisses, unable to stop. “So if you really do not want to eat, simply _do not eat_. I will return it to Bombu later.”

His hands are warm and tense. After a moment, during which she watches him grind his teeth, he lets go. Immediately she lets go of his hands. He stands next to the table, clenching and unclenching his hands before letting his body sag.

“The food is on this table then?” he asks and Bil beams and rushes to bring him a chair.

“Yes, let me set it up for you. A chair is behind you.”

He sits down and pulls the chair closer to the table. His hands splay on the surface, feeling the smoothed grain. Bil quickly sets a plate in front of him and a cup as well. Taking up one of his hands, she brings it to the cup.

“It’s water,” she murmurs to him. “I will refill it when you want. The food,” she says, bringing his hand to the plate and letting go to let him touch it, “is buttered bread and some sausage.”

“Thank you,” he mutters gruffly and picks the bread up and takes a large bite, then another in quick succession.

“Told you,” Bil says with smug satisfaction. “Everyone’s hungry in the morning.”

He doesn’t reply and just chews. Bil takes her seat and starts eating as well, smaller bites than his. He reaches for his cup and she doesn’t realize she had been holding her breath until he sets it down again with no problem.

He finishes before she does and frowns.

“Still hungry?” she asks quickly, standing up. “Here, I don’t eat as much as you probably do, finish mine.”

“No, I am fine,” he insists, standing up.

“Well, I’m full,” Bil lies. “So please, so as not to waste it.”

He stares in her direction meditatively before he sits back down and continues eating. He finishes off all of her food as well and Bil is incredibly, incredibly pleased.

“Your nephews would call this progress,” Bil says as she gathers the plates and glasses to return later.

Thorin snorts, a small smile playing at his lips. Two smiles in two days, Bil marvels. She doesn’t know where this is coming from. “I do anything by myself and they crow about how much better I’m doing. Insufferable brats.”

“It’s clear they care very much for you,” Bil says, returning to her seat. She fiddles with her hands, not brave enough to look at Thorin’s smiling face for long. “Your sister, too.”

The smile fades slowly and turns contemplative. “If only I had something to do,” he mutters.

“That’s something to work on, isn’t it?” Bil asks, tilting her head in thought. Most of her life she had nothing to do, twenty full years of having no productivity. Unlike Thorin, though, she had nothing previous to compared it to. Just days, weeks, months and years stretching ahead of her, more of the same.

“I suppose,” Thorin says, closing his eyes.

 

 

They don’t talk for the rest of the day, and they repeat the morning, breakfast affair again the next morning. When Bil is walking back from returning the tray, she is pulled aside by Fili and Kili. They stand legs akimbo and trying to appear authoritative, but the smiles they are terrible at concealing give them away.

“Uncle’s been smiling lately,” Kili announces. “We believe it’s due to you.”

Bil smiles sweetly. “If you say so.”

“What are you doing to get him looking happy again?” Fili demands.

She shrugs. “I don’t exactly know.”

They stare at her in silence, frowning, and Bil continues smiling at them. “Has— has Uncle made any requests or the like lately?”

Biting her lip, Bil nods and looks around the room, avoiding looking at them. “Not specifically, but…” She hesitates, eyes slowly moving to their faces. They are solemn yet earnest, eyes locked on her face and willing to listen. “Would it be possible for me to read to him, or something of the like?”

Kili starts nodding enthusiastically, but Fili frowns and holds a hand up just when his brother opens his mouth to speak.

“You read, then?” he queries. “What would you read to him?”

Bil shakes her head. “It’s not my decision,” she replies quietly, spreading her hands and looking at them. “I will read whatever His Highness wishes me to read.”

Fili smiles widely and is hugging her tightly a moment later. “You, Blueberry, are exactly what he needs. I knew it.”

“I knew it first,” Kili exclaims and pulls Bil into a hug just when she manages to squirm out of Fili’s grasp.

“Let go of me,” she growls into Kili’s chest, struggling again. “I still have to ask your uncle to see what he thinks of this.”

“He’ll approve, I assure you,” Fili says and Kili releases her.

“Now, return to him, show him how there’s no point in closeting himself away. Erebor needs him.”

“And you return to whatever you’re supposed to be doing,” she says, righting the folds of her skirt, which had tangled in the two hugs. “I shall continue my job.”

She first had the idea of reading to Thorin the previous night, copying down more notes from the books. There is still nothing for his eyes, but she had the thought that she could become his eyes, in whatever capacity she is allowed. Reading for him is, perhaps, the start of that. Her heart clenches when she continues down the halls, close to Thorin’s rooms, because she has precious little time left.

Three weeks until the party. She has three weeks to help Thorin, to set him back on the right track.

She pushes open the door to his rooms and Thorin is sitting at his desk, hands flat on the surface. His face is shuttered, eyebrows drawn together.

“I’m back,” she says as she closes the door. The room is somewhat put back together, but still has the tendency to be dim. She should do something about that, but the only thing Bil can think of is providing light magically. There are sconces on the walls but they lack lanterns that provide physical light.

Thorin doesn’t say anything but his flat hands curl together.

“I— I ran into your nephews in the halls,” Bil says, walking to the desk and laying her hands on it as well. The desk is almost tall enough for her to be able to put her elbows down on it comfortably as well. “And—”

“They already pestered me yesterday,” Thorin grumbles, scrunching a piece of paper in his hand. “I’m sure they asked you to do something for them.”

“Actually,” Bil says, “they didn’t. Instead, I asked them for permission to read for you.”

His eyebrows raise and a corner of his mouth turns down. “Read for me, is it? What, am I not capable of even reading by myself?”

“I was under the impression that you can’t anymore,” Bil replies smartly. “Am I wrong?” Thorin sighs and drops the paper back on the desk. Bil snatches it and flattens it out quickly, accidentally ripping it in a few places in her haste.

“Well,” Thorin grumbles, leaning back in his chair. “What does it say?”

Bil scans it and has trouble with some of the words because of the creases. “It’s a letter from the Greenwoods.” She clears her throat and starts reading it in as well as she can.

“To Thorin Durin, Prince to the Kingdom of Erebor, I send my regards. We will be arriving in a months time and we have requests relating to our accommodations. You know we live freely in the Greenwood Forest and we require to be as close to the outdoors as—”

“Enough,” Thorin growls and Bil stops. “Pass the letter on to someone else, this is not a problem I can solve.”

“Who do I pass it on to?” Bil asks, folding the letter neatly.

“Why not my nephews?” Thorin grunts. “Tell them to send a reply as well.”

“I will.”

Thorin broods for a moment, mouth slightly downturned at the corners. “Read another,” he commands and Bil takes up another letter. This one is from a citizen, concerning a legal case where he says he is falsely accused of theft. Thorin listens quietly.

“Can you write?” he asks.

“Yes, I can,” Bil says, scanning the letter again with concern.

“There is a quill and inkpot in one of the drawers,” he says. “Take it out and pen the response I will dictate.”

“Yes, sir.” She moves around the desk and hunts through the drawers until she has found the necessary items. She prepares them quickly and realizes their proximity only when she accidentally elbows Thorin in the side. “Oh, sorry,” she squeaks, scuttling away.

Thorin frowns and comments, “you’re rather small.”

“Pardon?”

He shakes his head. “No matter. Are you prepared?”

“Yes.”

 

 

A missive is slipped under her door when she returns that evening, after a quick dinner with friends. Lena and Purri are wrapped around each other, which Bil supports, but finds it difficult to be around. Especially considering that her increased contact with Thorin is starting to trouble her heart more than she had thought it would; she wasn’t supposed to work for him like this, but she is. She is seeing different sides of him, good and bad.

The missive allows her access to the Erebor library when produced and Bil’s heart starts beating quickly. She can find books to read for Thorin, but this access will also allow her to search for more books. Bil has read Gandalf’s books at least twice each and his library is surely smaller than the library of great Erebor.

There is still time for a quick visit, a quick dash just to check the size of the place. Dinner has not been over for long, and Bil stuffs the missive in her pocket and leaves on her search. She has not been to the library before, but she asks passerby for directions. They look at her funny, and she knows that asking for directions is outing herself as an outsider, a non Ereborean, but she doesn’t care.

She arrives and the library is not yet closed. She opens the door and a librarian immediately goes to her side to query her, but she is too struck to answer.

There are shelves that are enormously high and ladders that stretch to the very tops. She cannot see the end of the cavernous hall and there are faint echoes from where she knows not. The lighting is dim and she can hardly see the top of the hall, but she can see glimmers of color that indicate the ceiling has been painted.

She wants to see. This feels like a tale from one of the few books she was allowed in her Tower. This feels like a marvel of architecture and magical— not the magic that hums at her fingertips at all times, but the magic of knowledge, of people, the type of magic that is to be earned and protected at all costs. Not the magic that Smaug uses and hurts with, but the healing type, the type of  magic that binds people together.

“This place—” she says, her breath catching, finally turning her gaze to the librarian. It is a young woman, hair pinned austerely in a bun. She was looking at Bil sternly before, but her face softens when Bil turns to look at her.

“I understand that you’ve not been here before,” she stays kindly. “Welcome to Erebor’s library, one of the greatest in the lands. Rivendell’s library might be the only one to best the collection we maintain.”

“I— I see,” Bil breathes and gazes at the rows and rows of books in front of her. “It is marvelous.”

“I have to ask you if you are allowed in here, miss,” the librarian says, laying a hand on her shoulder to keep her from going forth.

“Oh, yes,” Bil says, reaching in her pocket for the paper. “Here, this is my permission.”

“Let me see it,” the librarian murmurs and scans the letter quickly. “You have permission from the princes,” she says with eyebrows raised a moment later. “That’s quite unusual.”

“Is it?” Bil asks innocently. “May I look at the books now?”

The librarian nods, eyebrow still high on her face. “Yes, but take the missive with you. You’ll need it again. I don’t work here full-time and you will have to prove that you’re allowed here once more.”

Bil nods and takes the folded paper back and starts to go through the shelves in front of her. It is a daunting task, thinking of where to even start in a library this massive. She walks down one of the aisles and reaches the end of the first shelf. There is another beyond it, but Bil can’t see to the very end of the hall.

But she finds a map of the library posted at the end. There are five aisles that contain five structures at that go to the end of the hall. The best part is, at the bottom, is an index based on topic. History of the area, literature, poetry, history of other areas, botany, geography— and there, at the end of the list, is magic. Bil quickly trots to where the section is and frowns when she gets there. There is not as large a section as the map had indicated, but there is a note tacked to one of the shelves.

_The majority of books concerning magic are kept in the safe-keeping of the Academy of Magic of Erebor._

_If a certain book is wished for, please contact: Gollum, Keeper of Magical Artifacts._

Bil sighs and starts going through the spines in front of her. There are more theory books, which Bil isn’t that interested in and, feeling overwhelmed by the thought of more theory, slowly kneels down.

All of a sudden, it is just too much. She has to deal with Nori’s cursed heist, which involves leaving all the people she knows her. It means betraying them, possibly incapacitate Purri and Lilo, two dear friends. Lena will likely never forgive her. There is also leaving Bombur behind, who has been nothing but the spirit of generosity to her, and the princes as well. Fili and Kili will remember her poorly, despite how she holds them in such high regard.

And Thorin. It somehow always comes back to Thorin and the growing care she has for him in her heart. He started smiling recently and is coming to accept help. This is the first step for him, but what will she cause if she leaves in the middle of that process? Will he believe he was being used? She can’t let him believe that. She can’t. She will cure his eyes as a promise of good faith.

She despairs again at curing his eyes. Gandalf deemed it impossible and no books here seem likely to help. She doesn’t even know how—

Bil stops her train of thought there and her head pops up. She doesn’t know how it happened, only that there was an incident of some sort. Most of what she knows is rumors. To find a cure, Bil has to know what caused it. After all, she read that there is no cure for natural blindness or by physical injury and Bil suspects that there is nothing natural or physical about Thorin’s blindness. He could see well enough when they first met at her Tower and Bil has heard enough of Smaug to think that there might be a connection. Maybe it wasn’t Smaug, but Bil has got to start somewhere, and figuring out the cause seems as good as anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've spent lot of time thinking about this story lately, thus an update within a week! How unusual ahahaha. One day, I will both finish this fic and go back and clean up the first ten or so chapters. One day.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter and will stick around for more!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Fanart - Bandits and Royalty](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1702442) by [stormaggedon_darklordofall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormaggedon_darklordofall/pseuds/stormaggedon_darklordofall)




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